The Great Meta-Fic
by YukonWolf
Summary: Inspired by the events of the Ship Survivor on the RWBY subreddit. As a conspiracy lead by the evil King Celtic seeks to overthrow the mod council, four heroes band together to defeat him once and for all.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: These are fictional characters, admittedly based on real people, but with their express permission to be based upon. This is a fictionalized and heavily dramatized depiction of the RWBY: Ship Survivor event on the RWBY subreddit.**

 **That out of the way, enjoy the story.**

* * *

He should have known something was wrong. The signs were all there. Eerily quiet, twisted, gothic architecture. Stained-glass windows with shades of deep crimson and red fixed in the frame. This was a trap. It had to be.

Inferno CLXVII, King of Crosshares, Leader of the Fan-Art League, was a long way from home. At this point, he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to go back.

He walked with his guards through the foyer of the mansion, the red-tainted moonlight illuminating the room. They stopped in front of two massive oak doors, their foreboding aura accentuated by the dimly lit patterns engraved in the wood. Behind him, all nine members of his personal escort halted and stood at attention. Inferno craned his neck, glancing over his guards. Even though they stood rigid and tall, he could feel their fear. Not one of them would exhibit any outward sign of it, but they were utterly terrified.

He turned his attention back to the massive oak doors which barred his progress, reaching out and grasping one of the rusted iron knockers. As he gripped the reddened metal he hesitated, weighing his decision in his mind.

The king swallowed hard, bit his lip, and brought the iron knocker down on the door as hard as he could. A loud echo reverberated throughout the chamber, startling him and his men. His hand let go of the vile knocker as fast as it could, and retreated to the sword at his side. Inferno's men, seeing this, placed their hands on the hilts of their weapons as well.

The door slowly opened, its hinges emanating a horrible screech. After a few tense seconds of waiting, a man appeared out of the unlit hallway, dressed in full armor, short dark blonde hair gracing the back of his neck. He raised his hands up to the sides of his head to dissuade the king and his entourage from acting rashly.

The man advanced towards him calmly, yet also in a strange, peculiar way that put him on edge. He stopped a little more than a meter in front of the king, and extended his hand. It clicked and whirred ever so slightly as he did so, its jerky movements inhuman, as if it was made from metal and steel instead of flesh and blood. Inferno paused for a second, then shook his hand, the cold of the envoy's metal gauntlet piercing the soft velvet of his own. The king withdrew his hand quickly and awkwardly, whereas the envoy simply folded his behind his back. At last, the man spoke, in a strange accent unlike any he had ever heard.

"Greetings, my liege. I am Jokey. We have been expecting you."

They looked each other up and down, inspecting every detail. His voice was rough and coarse, as if he had rocks lodged in his throat. At his side were two swords of a most peculiar design. Across his throat were strange scars, curved and erratic, most likely from some sort of burn.

Jokey smiled, an unconvincing grin stretching across his face as he gestured towards the foreboding passage ahead of them. "Follow me. You may bring one bodyguard."

The king nodded and beckoned for the Captain, his most trusted lieutenant, to come forward. Jokey turned and walked down the hallway with Inferno and the Captain in tow, the oak doors swinging shut behind them.

The hallway was long and ominous, with shadows eerily crisscrossing the floor despite there being no obvious source of light. The Captain kept a close grip on his sword, while his master folded his hands behind his back to keep them from fidgeting. Jokey remained unfazed.

"So, who is your master?" Inferno asked, all too innocently. Jokey's face contorted once more into an unsettling grin, genuine this time. "My master is—or was—known by many titles. King of Night's Watch, Priest of Emberald, Honorary Lord of Nuts and Dolts. You may call him "your Honor", and if you fall into his good graces, you may call him by his real name."

"And what is his real name?" The king stuttered, curiosity overcoming his better judgement.

Jokey chuckled weakly, stopping in front of another, smaller set of identical oak doors. "If he takes a liking to you, he'll tell you himself."

The envoy pressed his hand on the door, pushing it with great force until it gave way. Behind the doors was a circular chamber with a round table directly in its center. Instead of the ominous lighting of the main hall, this room was well-lit with a large skylight illuminating their surroundings. Seated at the table were five men and a woman, a sixth empty chair directly in front of Inferno, across from Jokey's master.

"Our ambassador has acquired fleet and army basing rights in Nuts and Dolts, as well as full military support. With these allies, our ascent will be…" One of the men, currently in conversation, trailed off as he turned his attention to the newcomers. Jokey beckoned towards the empty chair and walked to the right side of a man in an ostentatious throne. All eyes turned to look at Inferno and his armor-clad Captain.

"Well. When you said we would procure powerful allies, I admit I underestimated your abilities. You really have outdone yourself this time."

The voice came from the seat directly to the King's left. There sat a man, dressed in a cloak, simple in its design, but somehow almost royal in its intricacy. Concealing his face was a white bone mask shaped in the form of, or perhaps made of, a wolf's skull. The voice was dark and menacing, and slightly muffled, yet accentuated by the helmet. "It is an honor, my liege."

"Never doubt me, Yukon." The leader stood up. He was dressed rather modestly for someone of his influence. His robes were those of a minor noble. His crown was plain and simple, with no jewels or gemstones embedded in it as any true aristocrat would have done. Despite his intimidating height and beard, he seemed to be rather approachable. Was it genuine or part of his façade?

Inferno stood up from his chair, taking stock of the nobleman, analyzing and scrutinizing him. The man smiled and laughed. "Inferno, your reputation precedes you. Oh, but where are my manners? I am Celtic."

Inferno swallowed. "Greetings. I would list off my name and titles, but it seems that you already know them." He laughed meekly as the other residents of the room kept their eyes dispassionately trained on him. His halfhearted attempt at humor crashed and burned.

Celtic gave no heed to it. "I'm sure you have plenty of questions. Please, ask them now, while you have the chance."

The king cleared his throat, sat down and folded his hands in front of him. "The note you delivered to me, it gave instructions on where to meet. How did it get there?"

The man in the Arkos uniform raised an eyebrow. "Note? I never heard of any note." He smirked mischievously. "I assume Jokey had something to do with this?"

Jokey stifled a laugh, another devilish grin contorting his face. Celtic, too, chuckled ever so briefly. "Yes, that was Jokey. He is my personal… assistant. He specializes in infiltration and assassination, though he has a wide skill set."

Inferno grunted. Well, that explained the two guards that disappeared without a trace that night. He silently thanked the universe that Jokey was only delivering a message, and moved on with his questions.

"Who are you people? What is your purpose?"

Celtic cleared his throat and began introductions.

"The man in the bone mask is High Priest Yukon. He is the de facto head of the border state of Emberald, which is currently under heavy foreign pressure for being 'abusive.' Whatever that means."

Yukon nodded silently, the mask bobbing down and up as he did so.

"General Vulpix is a military strategist from Arkos. He has a small web of political connections, as well as influence and experience in the Arkosian military, which will assist us in our efforts."

Vulpix turned towards Inferno, bowing his head and opening his palm as a sign of respect.

"Greatness CMXLII, who is seated to your left, is the current leader of a steppe horde banished from the east. His tribe came here looking for blood and money, and I have given him an opportunity to obtain both."

Greatness crossed his arms over his iron breastplate, long brown hair falling over his eyes.

"As for the one in the hood, we call her Maker. She has certain… talents that are of use to us."

Maker turned her head to look at Inferno. At once he felt like he was turning mildly ill, his stomach churning with discomfort. She looked away, and the feeling subsided.

"So, what exactly is your goal?"

Celtic exhaled forcefully, a hint of hesitation in his breath. He smiled, opened his palms on the table and looked straight into his eyes.

"We are going to overthrow the Mod Council."

Inferno sat up straight, his heartbeat rapidly increasing. Greatness and Vulpix exchanged worried looks at his reaction while their leader coolly scrutinized the situation.

"Was that a little on-the-nose?" Celtic rested his head on his fist while Jokey's strange hand slowly inched towards his curiously-shaped blades.

"No, no. It's just that, if I give my support, thousands of my people would die. It-"

Yukon slammed his balled-up fist into the table, startling everyone and earning him a scornful look from his compatriots. Nevertheless, he began to speak.

"Your people? Our people already suffer under the tyranny of the Mod Council. Emberald is in the grip of poverty, Arkos has been stripped of its might and military after losing the Third Ship Wars, Night's Watch suffers in anarchy because the government set up by the Mod Council is riddled with corruption. Your people are not the concern here. We are trying to replace the system, to make it better for everyone!"

Maker looked up from her lap and turned her unnerving gaze to Inferno. "Chaos. Order. Good. Evil. In times like these, lines are blurred."

"The only blurred line I see is the line between patience and inaction." Greatness stood up, frustration imprinted on his face. "When are we going to rise up? My men and I have been here three months, and we haven't a single coin to show for it. They grow impatient, and so do I."

Celtic beckoned for him to sit down while he trained his eyes on the king. "The time will come soon enough, my friend. The only thing we need to go ahead is his support." He extended a finger at Inferno, waiting for him to respond.

"And if he doesn't give his support?"

"Oh, he will. He's already made up his mind." Greatness and Vulpix turned towards him as Celtic smirked devilishly. "He sees the potential for more power, more riches. He knows that with the Mods out of the way, there's nobody holding him back from claiming what he deserves. At the very least, he knows that he won't walk out of here alive if he doesn't pledge allegiance to us. And he knows that if he does betray us, it will end very badly for him." He punctuated the last statement with a motion towards Jokey, whose hands were menacingly wrapped around the hilts of his blades.

The Captain tightened his grip on his sword, while his master merely smiled. "Well. You've got it all figured out. Fine. I will join your conspiracy."

Celtic brought his hands together, proud of his success. "I knew we could make a deal. Jokey! Fetch the wine! We celebrate."

Jokey procured a bottle of wine from a cabinet directly behind Celtic's throne, twelve years old and in fine condition. He poured a glass for everyone at the table, sneaking a sip as he placed the container back into the cupboard and advancing back to his master's side.

Vulpix stood and raised his glass, offering a toast. "Drink now my friends, for tomorrow we fight. Drink to the old world, for tomorrow we enter a new one. To victory!"

The rest of the Council raised their cups in response. "To victory!"

Inferno looked down into his cup, contemplating his decision. He felt a tug of conscience, or perhaps his better judgement, as he thought about the consequences of his actions. Was it worth it? Yes, he thought, it was. "To victory!" he cried, and sealed his fate.

* * *

A special thanks to Austin2050 for putting up with my bullshit long enough to edit this garbage fire. More thanks to the RWBY subreddit for inspiring this madness.

One of my first writing projects, so be somewhat lenient. Don't coddle me though!


	2. Chapter 2

It was said that the sunsets in the great nation of Bumblebee were the finest in all the lands. People would describe, perhaps with exaggeration, the beautiful detail of the colors, the way the reds and the yellows would fantastically blend together with the oranges. It even led to an unofficial nickname for the nation, the Sunset Kingdom.

From his seat at the quaint little table in his hotel room, Quixotic watched the sunset. To most, it was a thing of pure beauty, something to watch alone or with a lover. But to him, the setting of the sun signified what time it was.

It was time to start drinking.

The man threw himself down the stairs, out the front door, and into the tavern across the street with an almost contagious exuberance. He barged through the doors of the lounge and dropped onto one of the barstools, signaling the bartender to pour another mug of cheaply-made beer.

"Another night drinking alone?" The bartender halfheartedly tried to begin a conversation with him.

Quixotic grunted in assent as he polished off his first glass of alcohol, slamming it down on the counter with the intent of receiving a refill.

"So where are you from?"

Quixotic held the glass in front of his face and hesitated for a moment before setting it down. "I see what you're doing, but I'll bite. I come from Top Shelf, came here to sell some goods, maybe buy a couple weapons. Nothing big." He began to guzzle his drink, albeit as a slower pace than before.

The bartender laughed a bit. "Top Shelf? That's a long way away from here. Don't tell tall tales to me, son. I've heard them all." Quixotic laughed as well, finishing his second drink. "Well, every good lie has a grain of truth. Now, if you'll excuse me…" He bowed his head to the bartender and exited, noting the sigh the bartender let out as he walked away.

He walked around the back of the tavern and found a nondescript door in the back with a small peephole from which those inside could look out. He knocked three times on the door, then twice, then three again. The peephole's hatch opened.

"Have you brought me anything to eat?"

Quixotic grumbled and said the passphrase. "A fresh Quail from the north."

At once the peephole closed, followed by the sounds of multiple locks being unlatched. Finally, the door opened, a grizzled middle-aged man standing behind it. He quickly beckoned for Quixotic to enter the back room, closing the door swiftly after his protégé came in. They sat down at a rather large table, which had numerous half-written papers strewn around a single lit candle. "So, have you cemented your identity?"

Quixotic scratched his jaw. "I'm doing that right now. People know me as the travelling merchant with a drinking problem. It provides the perfect cover for my reconnaissance." He pulled out a folded-up wad of papers from underneath his cloak, handing them to his superior, who looked them over with an almost gleeful enthusiasm.

"The guardsmen stationed on the eastward side, facing the mountains, are the least numerous. The patrols on the west side are the largest, but they're sapping men from the north and south sides of the city to do so, mostly the south."

The other man smirked, satisfied with his apprentice's work. "My boy, this is fine work. You've accomplished quite a bit in your short time here. Keep it up."

They stood up and shook hands as Quixotic's mentor pocketed the documents. "One more thing, if I may," Quixotic began. "The Emberald priests in the city, they've been acting… strangely of late. Something's up, and I don't know what."

His mentor waved him off. "They're basically a doomsday cult, they're always on edge. I wouldn't worry about it."

Quixotic shrugged. "If you say so. Farewell, sir." He stepped outside into the filthy alley, off to cause more trouble to "keep his cover."

The man laughed and stood up. "It's safe to come out now." A clean-shaven, charming young officer stepped out from a closet and into the main chamber. "He's gone, finally. All this spy work makes me thirsty. Good thing we're next to a bar." They both chuckled heartily as the man handed the officer the stack of papers.

"Is this everything we need?" the officer asked. The spy nodded. "We have everything there, Colonel Vulpix."

Vulpix laughed as he shifted through the documents, surprised by the detail the younger spy had had put into his job. "Come now, just because you're jealous of my success doesn't mean you need to get vulgar. Colonel. Ha! Celtic wouldn't associate with someone of such a low rank." He slid the papers into the side pocket of his uniform, and shook his operative's hand.

"Celtic thanks you, Sir Nachbar. You will not regret this." Nachbar laughed again, his sides shaking under his wide cloak. "If I do," he said, "I'll just switch sides again."

Vulpix laid his hand on Nachbar's shoulder. He looked into his eyes, searching them for any disloyalty. He found none, and removed his hand.

"Farewell, my friend. Tomorrow, we rise. And you can finally get laid."

Vulpix laughed as his friend crumpled up one of the papers on his desk and threw it at him with pinpoint accuracy. Unlatching the absurd amount of locks on the door, he walked out into the street.

Across the town, a middle-aged man walked through the winding passageways of the city market, trying not to bump into any of the various, potentially dangerous characters that populated the area. He stopped in front of a stall that sold various foodstuffs.

"Hello, sir," said the grocer. "What'll it be today?"

The man smiled, reaching under his cloak and finding a pouch of coins. "Two loaves and two cobs of corn, please." The grocer grabbed the items and handed them to the man. As he did so, he pointed.

"The sigil on your cloak, I know it. You're from Guns and Roses, aren't you?"

The man nodded as he placed a small lump of copper coins on top of the stall's table. "Indeed. I used to be a soldier in their army, became one of their best strategists. I retired, migrated here. It's a simpler life." He smiled. "I'm Austin."

"A pleasure." The grocer smiled, shaking Austin's hand. "I hope to meet again sometime."

"I'm sure we will." Austin dropped the corn and the bread into his basket and continued onwards towards the residential section. He passed through the ever-thinning throngs of people and went out the city gates, finding himself on the empty road that lead to his countryside home. The tired warrior approached the steps of his modest house, jammed open the door, and let it slam shut behind him.

He set down the basket on the dinner table in the front room, advancing to the side of the fireplace with a loaf of bread in his hand. He took a bite and grabbed one of his swords off the rack on his wall.

Austin walked into the clearing behind his house, locating the training dummy he had set up some time ago to keep his skills sharp. He raised his sword, offering a challenge to his opponent. The dummy remained impassive.

He thrust the sword into its heart, pulling out a small amount of straw as he withdrew. He hacked it at the side, then the head, then where the legs would be.

Suddenly, he heard a snapping sound. Austin looked up, seeing two human figures in the patch of trees just over the hill. One was dressed in lightweight military armor, holding some sort of peculiar sword. The other was holding a long, lance-like weapon and clothed in armor like that of a Mongol. They were talking, seemingly unaware of Austin's presence.

He slowly advanced towards the men, hoping to hear some of their conversation. When he got close enough to see the outline of their faces, he dropped flat.

"-scouting around. Vulpix is handling business in the city."

"What about Yukon?"

"Yukon's preparing his clergy. They move on his signal."

"And Maker?"

"With Celtic, no doubt creating some other alchemical horror. She and failure are the only things I fear in this world."

"Agreed. Come with me. We'll see what the city has to offer."

"A fantastic idea. Let's see a blacksmith, I need to get my tonfa repaired before tonight."

They walked away, down the other side of the hill towards the south west city entrance. Austin stood, breathing heavily, and proceeded to stalk them some more, making sure to stay on his side of the hill.

"Do you know the history of this place, Greatness?"

"No, I'm afraid I do not."

"Bumblebee was one of the first Kingdoms to join the Holy RWBY Subreddit, along with White Rose, Monochrome, Freezerburn, Ladybug and even Enabler. Dear god, what were the founders of that thinking?"

Greatness suddenly stopped, grabbing Jokey's shoulder. They both turned towards the top of the hill behind them as a figure suddenly ducked down behind it.

Jokey broke the silence. "We're being followed." He whispered.

"What does it matter? He'll be dead within the next few hours."

"Always a man of perspective, Greatness. Regardless, let's jog into the city."

The two men began running, casting looks behind them to see if they were still being followed. Once confident they weren't, the two slowed down to a walk and found themselves in the business district.

"Do you see a blacksmith's?"

Jokey looked around and pointed to a small smithy at the end of the street. The duo walked over to and into the shop, approaching the long-haired man at the counter.

"Can I help you gentlemen?"

Jokey spoke first, unsheathing his tonfa as he did so. "I need these restored. Be delicate with the handles and be very careful not to damage the inscriptions."

The blacksmith looked over the blade, noting the engraving on the central ridge of the sword. "What's it say?"

"What it means is not important to you. Sharpen the edges, get the rust off, that is what you're paid to do. Greatness, you need anything?"

Greatness turned from an open window to face Jokey, shaking his head.

"Will this take long?"

The blacksmith shook his head. "No, no it won't. I won't be ten minutes." He disappeared into the back with Jokey's blades.

The assassin walked over to the window, standing next to his compatriot. "Can we stand outside? The air in here is agitating my throat."

The stepped outside, loitering near the door of the establishment. Jokey ran his hand across his head, scratching his scalp as the hand jerked mechanically. The twitchy hand dropped to his side as he leaned over and whispered to his ally.

"So what is the plan for you guys? Did Celtic tell us what the others would be doing?"

"Vulpix and Inferno will draw their attention with their armies, my warriors and I will attack from the exposed flank. Yukon and Maker will sow chaos in the city. What about you and Celtic?"

"He'll have his armies mop up any survivors while I infiltrate the Bumblebee castle. By the time he gets there, I'll have most of their government dead or subdued and Bumblebee will be ours. We'll be in open rebellion against the Mod Council."

"The thought of betraying your government doesn't frighten you?"

"I'm not betraying them, Greatness, for I am loyal to only one man. I-" He was cut off as the blacksmith came out with his newly sharpened blades.

Jokey took them out of the blacksmith's hands, making sure the mechanical movements of his right hand weren't too noticeable. "Thank you, uh-" he paused, looking up at the sign above the entrance for the name of the owner. "-Gwydion. Your help is much appreciated."

The blacksmith nodded courteously. "Of course, sir." Greatness pulled a few coins out of the pouch on his waistband, handing them to Gwydion as they walked away. Gwydion pocketed the money, going back into his workshop.

As he walked behind the counter, another young man walked in, eagerness and youthful energy in his eyes. "Excuse me, sir. I'd like to buy a sword."

Gwydion looked him up and down, examining his impeccable uniform. "That's a peculiar accent you have. Where are you from?"

The man was taken aback, not expecting the question. Nonetheless, he smiled and pulled a small dagger from his belt with a small, surprisingly detailed sigil on the pommel. Two scythes, roses entwining them together.

Gwydion leaned back and smirked. "Guns and Roses. Not many people from there around here. What business could you have in Bumblebee?"

"I'm here as part of the Guns and Roses Foreign Legion. I plan to travel to White Rose next, or maybe Enabler. I hear it can be quite… exciting in those parts.

The blacksmith laughed heartily. "Oh, I wish I had your enthusiasm. Now, are you looking for a sword to spar with or to fight with?"

"To fight. I'll take one of your sharpest swords." The man placed a bag of coins on the counter as Gwydion retrieved one of his masterpieces from the back and set it on the counter.

"Thank you, sir." The young man beamed as he eagerly ran out of the forge with his new sword at his side, leaving Gwydion at the counter smiling.

The young soldier ran through the back alleys of the city, having come to commit some of them to memory by that point. He looked around a corner and saw three men in long green-black robes walking down the street. Emberald priests.

The church of Emberald had a reputation among the other offshoots of the Yuri Reformation as being abusive, though he had never believed such propaganda. Nonetheless, they were renowned for their extraordinary devotion to the leader of their church. For that most chose to be wary of them, abusive or not.

"Calvin, you and Derkins will meet up with the Freund brothers in the marketplace. You'll know what to do from there. Go!" Two of the priests nodded and departed from their leader, walking towards the business district of the city. The head priest disappeared down a corner, out of view.

The soldier breathed a small sigh and continued down the alley, only to run directly into the head priest. The young man screamed and bumped up against the edge of a door, intensely startled.

"Oh dear. I'm terribly sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. It's the mask, isn't it." He laughed, slightly alleviating the young man's terror. "What's your name, son?"

"Nitesco."

"I apologize profusely, Nitesco, I couldn't see where I was going. It's this damned mask of mine." He tapped the side of the wolf skull that rested across his face.

"Then why do you wear it?"

"Trust me, my boy, it's better that I keep it on."

Nitesco nodded, still breathing heavily from the surprise. "Well, I better get going. I'm already late for curfew."

"Farewell." The high priest muttered as the young man disappeared into the night. He shook his head in disgust. "Idiot."

He turned a corner and found the city stables. Setting down a small bag of gold, the high priest climbed on top of a horse and rode out of the city to the meeting point Celtic had set up for them.

The priest reached the top of the hill, where the rest of the Celtic Council stood waiting. He approached them, giving a small bow as he did so.

"My priests are in position. Shall we move now or wait for total darkness?"

Celtic scratched his head, then turned to face his generals. "Do you all know the plan?"

"Yes." They all stated in unison.

"Very good. Maker has prepared for us another toxin to use on the enemy forces. Vulpix, can you select some of your troops to test this new weapon on the enemy?" Vulpix nodded in response.

"Good. Relish this view, my friends, for it will not exist tomorrow. Tomorrow, the rest of the Subreddit will be ours!"

"Glory!" The council cried.

"Yes, my allies. Glory to us all."


	3. Chapter 3

Nitesco lied on the bed in his military quarters, facing the window, in a deep trance. He wasn't quite asleep, but he definitely wasn't awake. He was thinking, if you could call it that, about his future in the foreign legion, dreaming of glorious battles yet to come, completely oblivious to the screams and cries of terror from the streets outside.

Suddenly, a cannonball crashed through the adjacent wall of the dorm and his glorious visions of battle became very, very real.

His hand reflexively went for the sword lying under his bed, along with his breastplate and boots. He haphazardly donned what little armor he had at his disposal and ran out into the hallway, running directly into his sergeant.

"Sergeant!" Nitesco shouted. "What's happening?" The bearded old man turned to his protégé, a look of determination on his face. "We're under siege! I'm readying the garrison for a counterattack! Rally the others!" Nitesco nodded and sprinted down the hallway, screaming. "Arm yourselves! Arm yourselves! Ready a counterattack!" He looped back around the base towards the front, going out the front entrance and watching the sergeant and his men charging down the steps towards a battalion of Arkosian soldiers.

The Arkosian commanding officer was on horseback, brandishing a cavalry saber at the incoming wall of men. He pointed the blade at the sergeant's men, yelling as he did so.

"Throw the grenades!"

At once the line of men hurled lit grenades at the Gunnian and Rosian soldiers, who raised their shields or turned and covered themselves from the blast as they were trained to do.

Except the blast didn't come, not like they were expecting. A cloud of smoke enveloped the men, they began coughing and wheezing violently. The men suddenly shrieked like banshees and began madly swinging their weapons at each other before casting them aside and tearing into each other with their bare hands. Ignoring the carnage they caused, the Arkosian soldiers drew their weapons and began charging up the steps.

Nitesco turned and ran, sprinting through the hallways while his comrades rushed the opposite way, certainly to their deaths. He found a stairwell leading downwards, descended it as rapidly as possible, and exited out the cellar entrance. He gasped for breath and looked up, only to see the carnage before him.

The screams and clangs of metal on metal pierced his ears as he finally became fully aware of his surroundings. Half the city was ablaze, the walls were crumbling under the force of cannonballs or other projectiles as the unknown assailant overwhelmed the city. He steeled himself, readied his blade, and charged into the city streets.

It wasn't long before he found more enemies defiling the city. Two soldiers clad in Crosshares colors sprinted down an alleyway, not noticing the young trainee as they scurried towards the marketplace. Nitesco sprinted through the twisting city roads in search of his prey, only to stop in horror when the street opened up into the marketplace.

Thousands of buildings and market stalls were in flames as screams echoed from across the marketplace. A Bumblebee soldier ran past Nitesco, charging into the raging inferno, only to receive an arrow in the neck. Nitesco watched in horror as the man clutched at his wounds before he finally slumped over and died. From behind a line of market stalls, a line of Emberald clergy emerged, swords and crossbows in hand. They charged across the plaza, looking for more people to slaughter, when a pair of them stopped and turned to face Nitesco. One of them pointed at the young soldier, and her compatriot leveled his weapon at Nitesco, firing a bolt.

Nitesco dodged the arrow, but instead of running as his instincts told him to do, shrieked in rage and charged at them wildly. He unsheathed his sword and swung it upwards in a heaving slash, only to be blocked by the sword of his opponent. They traded blows as the other Emberald priest rapidly reloaded his crossbow. Nitesco locked blades with the priestess he was dueling, staring straight into her eyes as he gritted his teeth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a crossbow pointed at him. His foot, seemingly acting out of its own will, connected with the knee of the priestess as he wrapped his arm around her throat and held her in front of him.

This time, the arrow connected, the tip passing just below Nitesco's arm into his hostage's chest. He let her collapse to the ground as he readied his sword and charged at the remaining soldier.

His opponent panicked, quickly grabbed an arrow and tried to stab Nitesco with its tip. The Rosian soldier reacted quickly, bashing the arrow out of his opponent's hand before bringing his sword down mercilessly into his victim's skull, watching as the priest collapsed onto the ground and bled out.

Nitesco withdrew his blade from the body, watching as it twitched on the ground, in a visceral, sickening fashion. He became dizzy, steadying himself on his sword as he suppressed the urge to vomit. The sound of a galloping horse awakened him from his stupor.

"Rally, my priests! Sweep the residential section!"

On horseback was the High Priest that he'd encountered, swinging a flail around and pointing in Nitesco's direction. He turned towards the young man, the cold green of his eyes meeting Nitesco's through the eyeholes in his bone mask.

"A survivor! After him!" He whipped his horse and rode away as his men menacingly approached Nitesco, ready for a fight. This time he listened to his instincts. He ran.

He heard the heavy footsteps of his pursuers as he hopped over fallen debris and dead bodies, trying to make his way out of the city. As he turned a corner, Nitesco spotted the ruins of city gates, a full line of Bumblebee knights entrenched amongst the rubble. He charged over them, waiting for the Emberald priests to get caught in their defenses, or at least get slowed down.

Nitesco darted into a small patch of trees, catching his breath as he overlooked the battlefield. Various banners rustled in the wind, only a few close enough for him to see in the dark of the night: Nuts and Dolts, Arkos, Emberald, even Crosshares. There was one he did not recognize, a flag of foreign design, its warriors fighting with weapons used by the steppe hordes of the east. Who could wield enough influence to hire a steppe horde?

"There he is! Get him, Marvin!"

Nitesco turned, seeing an Emberald priest pointing at him, a heavily-armored Nuts and Dolts soldier at his side. He turned and ran clumsily down the hill, his feet struggling to balance him as his speed increased. The young soldier looked behind him, checking to see if the pair were still in pursuit. This was a mistake.

His foot caught a rock.

The ground rushed up to meet him.

The world went black.

* * *

Swish! Another soldier dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

Swish! A foolish Arkos soldier thought attacking Austin from behind was a good strategy. His head parted from his body and let out a jet of blood, which reminded Austin of tomato paste.

Swish! He knew he should've eaten more before bed.

Austin sheathed his sword as he observed the carnage around him. At least two dozen bodies were draped over the various pieces of furniture in Austin's house, coating nearly every surface in a foul-smelling red. Austin grabbed his short sword and his shield and buckled them to his back with the leather straps he had on the table. As he stepped out into the patch of land behind his cottage, Austin was greeted by the cries of battle and the sound of collapsing stone as another section of the city's wall collapsed under the force of a cannonball.

"Get him, Marvin!"

Austin squinted as he looked into the patch of trees on top of the hill. A young soldier sprinted out from the treeline, closely followed by an Emberald priest and a Nuts and Dolts pikeman. The young soldier looked behind him as his foot caught a rock, sending him tumbling down to the bottom of the hill. His pursuers stopped and looked at the sight, at first confused. One beckoned for the other to follow and they disappeared out of view.

Austin readied his sword and ran around the hill watching as the pikeman approached the ditch where the man lay unconscious, the other standing at the top and looking down. Austin crept up behind him, pulled out his dagger, and tapped the priest on the shoulder. "What the-" The priest was cut off as Austin drew the blade across his throat, watching as he convulsed before pushing him into the pit. The pikeman looked to the side as the body of his friend rolled down beside him, and then up as he saw Austin charge into the ditch with his sword at the ready. With a single swing, he was decapitated, and his head bounced off the body of the unconscious man before coming to rest next to a rock.

The young man responded to this, his eyelids fluttering open before pulling himself up from the ground with a groan.

"What happened?"

"I'll explain later. All you need to know is that I'm on your side, and that we need to get out of here. Now."

"But the city-"

"I think we both know we've already lost that battle."

The soldier turned his head to look at the city, columns of fire rising from behind the walls, illuminating the night. He turned back to Austin. "My friends…"

"If they're still alive, they'll find us. What we need to focus on now is escaping, before it's too late. Grab a sword and follow me."

The young man complied, finding a pristine blade under the body of the Emberald priest before sheathing it and poking it above the edge of the ditch. He turned to Austin, who was surveying the battlefield, trying to see if there was any possible escape route. At last he raised his arm and pointed to a large hill in the distance.

"There's an opening in the fighting over there. If we hurry, we can get out of here and pause there to think of a better plan. Follow me!"

They leapt out of the hole in the ground, scrambling across the battlefield towards the hill in the distance, desperately hoping no one would notice them sprinting away. They made their way around a particularly large skirmish, barely dodging a couple well-aimed arrows and ducking into a damaged barn. Austin turned to his keep, then to the barn door, seeing if they had any pursuers.

"What's your name, boy?"

The young man sputtered and turned to him. "Now? You really want to learn my name now?!"

Austin nodded. He actually didn't, particularly, but he was hoping to keep him distracted and calm while he thought of a plan to escape. Nitesco told him his name. Austin sighed in frustration.

"What's wrong?" Nitesco asked. Austin shook his head. "I've gotten us into quite a mess," he said.

"What mess?" The boy's panic had been replaced with disappointment. Austin turned to him, then back to the door. "Well, troops have marched through the passage to the north, so it's pretty much impassable. To our south and west, large masses of troops are currently duking it out, which makes escape through that area rather risky. To our east, their cannons and reserve troops are on guard, which makes escape through that path extremely difficult as well. Now tell me some miniscule details about your life."

The young man stroked his chin and thought. "Well, I'm part of the Guns and Roses foreign legion. I've graduated-"

"I've got it!" Austin yelled, startling Nitesco. "The troops marching through the pass will either engage the Bumblebee forces or join the reserve. That way, when the path is cleared, we'll meet minimal resistance or none at all. We're home free!"

"I don't think so!"

A figure advanced through the doors of the barn, wielding a halberd and clothed in full armor. Both Nitesco and Austin turned towards the man, instinctively grabbing their swords and leveling them at the intruder, while the intruder did the same. Through the helmet he wore, Nitesco could hear a soft snicker.

"Come then. Let us begin."


	4. Chapter 4

**Oh shit, it's been a month. Hopefully I won't do this again.**

* * *

Quixotic was halfway through his seventh round of beers, in an effort to "keep his cover," when the first cannonball struck. At first, he thought the loud blasts in his ear were a sign he had drank too much. However, when the other residents of the bar ran to the windows and doors to see or escape what made the noise, he became convinced something much worse than a headache was happening outside.

The spy walked out the doors of the bar, looking at the horizon, watching as a large hole was blown in the city walls. Another cannonball passed through the opening, seemingly directly at him. Quixotic turned and ran, expecting the projectile to land where he was standing.

Instead, it landed on the bar, setting it ablaze and collapsing it under the force of the explosion. Quixotic suddenly became extremely focused, his alcohol-addled mind experiencing a rush of adrenaline as he sized up the situation. He decided to run.

The agent sprinted through the alleyways of the city, screams barraging his ears as the city walls to his left suddenly collapsed. He turned down an alleyway and nearly slammed into a small squad of soldiers.

"Oh God, I'm sorry. I-" Quixotic's eyes drifted down to the sigil they had emblazoned on their shields. A scythe, going through two circular, six-pointed stars. Nuts and Dolts. Suddenly, Quixotic connected the dots.

"Get him!" Quixotic turned and ran, several of the men hot on his heels. He turned a corner, his momentum almost carrying him to the ground as he ran down another street. Up ahead was a platoon of Bumblebee soldiers brandishing their weapons at the invaders. Quixotic stopped as his pursuers retreated and disappeared into the blazing streets.

"Are you alright, son?" The commander, an older man with a salt-and-pepper beard approached him and rested his hand on Quixotic's shoulder. Quixotic nodded. "Good. We're rallying the civilians for a counterattack. If we can get the residents of the city on our side, we can push them out of here!"

"I don't think so!"

The shrill, mechanical voice of a man resounded from the rooftops, drawing the attention of the entire group to the source of the noise. A man, garbed in peculiar armor, descended and landed in front of the group, alien weapons in his hands. Covering his head was a strange helmet; the bottom half was fully metal with incisions about an inch apart spread across the jawline. The top half was leather, melded or sewn to the steel jaw guard, with two wide, lifeless holes where the eyes should be. He—or rather, it—stood up from its landing position, surveying its opposition through the bleak holes in his helmet. A deep, hellish breathing emanated from the being, hauntingly in sync with Quixotic's own. One of the younger soldiers crossed himself at the sight of it. "It must be a demon." He leveled his blade at it. "Begone, evil spirit!" At this the figure cackled, its laughter tainted and rendered inhuman and mechanical through the influence of it mask. "Come now, my friends. Since I am a sensible fellow, I shall give each of you one chance to run. You can flee, wisely, or you can stay, fight and die. Your choice."

Three of the younger soldiers sheathed their swords and turned tail, the cowards skittering back into the half-lit ruins of the city. The rest of the soldiers angled their weapons at the demon as Quixotic defiantly readied the dagger his overseer had given him for self-defense.

"You may be foolish, but your bravery is admirable. For this, your deaths will be quick."

It was like a whirlwind. Almost instantly, Quixotic found himself splattered in blood as the heads of four soldiers behind him separated from their bodies. The demon spun his blades around, stabbing the unfortunate sergeant before slashing the throats of the other two survivors. Quixotic gave no heed as he ran as fast as he could to escape the carnage.

"Run, little mouse! Run!" The sound of near-unhinged laughter pierced his ears as Quixotic tried to put as much distance as he could between himself and the beast chasing him. He rounded another corner in the seemingly endless, burning labyrinth of the business section in the hopes he could evade his pursuer.

The next thing he knew, he was on the ground. When he looked up, he saw a heavily-armored behemoth of a man, dressed in armor that reminded him of accounts of the Orient. Quixotic's confusion turned to terror as he realized the man was not wearing Bumblebee heraldry, his dread increasing as the heard deep, labored breaths of the assassin coming from behind him. He clutched his dagger as he stood up and pressed himself up against the wall, trying to keep away from his potential killers.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?"

"The mouse ran into a dead end. A pity, I would have preferred not to waste my time on you. Shall we, Greatness?"

"Let's."

Quixotic closed his eyes and prepared for the end. It did not come. A man ran out of the smoke and body-slammed the large one from behind, sending him to the ground with a painful crack. The thin one readied his swords and leaped at the man, swinging wildly, only for his flurry of strikes to be deflected.

"I see I've outdone myself this time. Tell me, what does that engraving say?"

"Die in ignorance!"

Jokey began swiping and swinging at Quixotic's rescuer, resuming the fight. Out of the corner of his eye, Quixotic noticed that the man his rescuer had knocked down was standing once again, poised to attack. Without thinking, Quixotic drew his hand back and hurled the knife, watching as it flew across the alley. The hulking warrior stopped suddenly, watching as the dagger narrowly missed him and embedded itself in the side of a house. Greatness looked at the young man, a look of surprise and anger on his face. It turned itself into a face of resolve as he drew his curved lance from his back and charged.

Quixotic just barely dodged it, throwing himself out of the way and somersaulting away from the commander as he heard the weapon collide with the house behind him. Greatness leaned in and planted his feet to remove the blade, lodged in the bricks by the sheer force of the blow. Quixotic turned to the rescuer, who drew a second blade from a sheathe on his back and tossed it to Quixotic. He caught it and took a swing at Greatness, only for the blade to be knocked from his hands as he finally dislodged the lance from the building.

Quixotic dove for the sword, neatly recovering and dodging another one of Greatness' heavy swings. He grabbed the blade and backed up, bumping into his ally as they both watched their respective opponents walk menacingly towards them.

"What's the plan?"

The man grunted. "Either we surrender and die, or we fight and die."

The demon once again rallied and charged, forcing them backwards. Quixotic had the presence of mind to notice Greatness winding up for a swing and tackled his friend to the ground as they were backed up to a wall.

"I don't like either of those."

Almost immediately, the portion of the city wall directly above them exploded as a cannonball struck the wall and rained debris on the four. The acrobatic one backflipped away from the shower of displaced bricks. The other one kneeled and raised his heavily armored arms to guard his face. Sensing an opportunity, Quixotic turned to his new ally.

"Third option?"

He nodded. "Third option."

They tore across the rock-covered street, vaulting themselves over the small remaining portion of the wall and sprinting across the battlefield. Amidst the screaming, writhing masses of people throwing themselves at each other, they came across a lone horse, lost and without a rider. The swordsman pulled himself up onto the horse first before helping Quixotic up onto the back.

"I know this might be a bad time, but what's your name?"

"Gwydion. Yours?"

"Quixotic."

Gwydion lashed the horse into a gallop, bolting across the battlefield as fast as they could. They made their way to the outskirt roads, away from the fighting. As they passed a small barn, a Bumblebee soldier took notice of the Arkos horse and fired an arrow at it, piercing the animal straight through the eye. The steed reared up, bucking both of its riders off before galloping away blindly.

Gwydion stood up and leaped out of the way as another arrow narrowly missed his leg. He pulled Quixotic up from the ground before fleeing. A third arrow imbedded itself in the side of the barn as they ran into it.

Inside the barn were three men. Two were standing in the back, one was younger and wore a Guns and Roses emblem on his armor, the other was an older man dressed in peasant's clothing. Facing them was a man completely covered in armor, wielding a halberd. He turned to face the two men who had suddenly appeared behind him.

"Well. More lambs to the slaughter."

"I think not!" The young man across the space yelled. "You're outnumbered four to one. You're the one in danger here."

The helmeted figure leaned his head back and laughed heartily. "You've got spirit, boy. Too bad you don't have brains." He lifted his halberd off his shoulder and let the blade it the ground. "I'm sorry I have to do this. But I have my orders."

Quixotic let out an adrenaline-fueled howl and charged the warrior, only to be struck in the chest with the blunt end of the long weapon. The captain spun in a circle, knocking Gwydion and the Gunnian recruit two the ground, allowing him to focus on the peasant with the worn cavalry saber.

"That's a big sword you got there. Compensating for something?" He laughed tauntingly as he dodged a swing from the long weapon.

"You move fast for an old man."

"You think slow for an officer."

The old man laughed again as he somersaulted away from another of the officer's crushing blows.

"Give up. What do you have that I don't?"

The peasant let the sword drop to his side, grinning as he did so.

"Experience." He chuckled slightly. "And three extra soldiers."

Gwydion and the Gunnian soldier attacked in unison, forcing the knight backwards as he struggled to block both of their strikes. He grabbed the body of his blade again, swinging in a wide arc before him, forcing his adversaries back.

Quixotic had recovered, angling his sword at the captain, standing beside his fellow fighters despite the throbbing pain of internal bleeding in his chest. The officer sized up his new situation, changing his stance from an offensive one to a defensive one.

"Give up. You have no chance of leaving here alive."

The captain chuckled deviously. "I have a better chance than you think." He unbuckled a small grenade from his belt and pulled the pin.

The Gunnian recruit gasped in horror, barely managing to utter a single word.

"Run!"

All four of them dove backwards in unison, listening as the bomb exploded behind them and emitted a sickly green gas. All of them covered their faces with their shirts, crawling out of the barn into open, fresh air.

They stood and frantically dusted themselves off as the gas mingled with the crisp night air. In the distance, they heard the whinny of a horse, and saw the officer ride off into the darkness. Quixotic pointed in the direction of the fleeing knight, waving his arm uselessly as he used the other one to clutch his chest.

"We have to go after him!"

The older man placed his hand on Quixotic's shoulder. "No, we need to move. The Bumblebee garrison can't hold out for much longer. The city is lost, so unless you wish to count yourself among the dead, follow me!"

Quixotic stood motionless, utterly silent before nodding and turning. The four ran around the side of the barn, and finding two horses conveniently tied to a hitching post, cut their tethers and climbed onto them. The old man and Gwydion took the reins, and casting one last wayward glance towards the burning metropolis, whipped their horses into a gallop, and vanished into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

Nitesco's eyes fluttered open as he woke from a deep battle-induced slumber. He groaned, still drowsy, and turned on his side. He gasped and sat up as he saw four men turn towards him through his barely open eyelids, startling them and himself. "Hey, hey. Easy there. We're not here to hurt you." It was the old man from last night, Austin something-or-other. He exhaled, calming down as he noticed the two other faces in the tent were also familiar and friendly.

"So, who are you guys?"

One was in the back, running a stone over a sword, no doubt slightly dulled as a result of the battle. The other waved at him, finishing off a skin of wine before introducing himself.

"I'm Quixotic, and the guy with the sword is Gwydion, and our guest here is General Jaeger. I'm assuming you know Austin." Nitesco nodded, sitting up and planting his hands behind him on the rather uncomfortable mat of hay he slept on. "Not that well, actually. I suppose we'll all get to know each other better eventually." He paused. "This is a little off-topic, but where are we? Last night was a bit of a blur."

Gwydion set his sword down and turned towards the aspiring soldier. "Well, we were riding away from the battlefield when we stumbled upon a retreating Bumblebee legion. Austin was fortunately acquainted with the General, and managed to get us a spare tent and some food. You passed out right after we got there; Austin was nice enough to give you a mat."

Austin smiled and returned to quietly (but intensely) biting apart a loaf of bread. "So, who's in charge here?" Nitesco asked.

Jaeger raised his hand. "I am. General Kuchen Jaeger, commander-in-chief of the armies and heir apparent to the throne of Bumblebee. My cousin Jillian was unable to escape Celtic's wrath."

"Celtic?"

"The leader of this insurrection. He was an exiled lord from Night's Watch, banished from the court of nobles for disobeying the Mod Council. He has powerful allies: Emberald, for their hold on the resource-rich lands of the north, and Arkos and Crosshares for their large armies. Hell, he's even got a goddamned steppe horde with him. He's a man with incredible power, and many connections. If he gets his way, the entire Subreddit will bow to him and his execrable cronies."

Quixotic flopped back on the ground. "Fantastic. No pressure there."

"Don't worry, son. We'll get our lands back eventually. In the meantime, you'll all pull your weight. Austin, you're on guard duty with Quixotic. Gwydion, you and Nitesco will take the shift after theirs in an hour. With any luck, we'll be back in the city and have Celtic's head in a bag by the end of the week." He stood, gesturing to Austin and Quixotic to go to their posts before disappearing around the corner of the tent.

"We'll talk later." Austin smiled, stood and waved Quixotic out of the tent before following him to their posts. Alone, Gwydion turned to Nitesco.

"Well, we've got a couple hours to ourselves. What do you say we have ourselves a look around the area?"

"Sounds fine to me."

Gwydion stood, sheathing his sword and making sure he was followed by Nitesco before walking out of the tent and entering the woods. For about ten minutes, the pair calmly and silently strolled through the woods. Finally, Nitesco broke the silence.

"So, how'd you become a blacksmith?"

Gwydion laughed. "It's a long story."

"I have time."

The blacksmith scratched the back of his neck and began expositing.

"My father was the leader of the most feared mercenary company there was; they were called the Fallen Angels. My brothers and I were each trained in a different art. My older brother was a cavalryman, my youngest brother was a strategist. I was a blacksmith. As brother's we vied for our father's attention hoping to impress him. Eventually, I did, and I became the chief blacksmith of the company. It was all for naught."

"Some time later, my father, now in his older years, led us into the Third Shipping War against White Rose and Bumblebee. During the siege of Lancaster, we were defending the castle, when some of our men betrayed us. They opened the portcullis while we slept, released the drawbridge and aided them in slaying all the defenders. My father… he was killed by his most trusted lieutenant. I knew we were beaten. I ran. I ran until I crossed the border into Bumblebee. I set up as a blacksmith, made myself known. That's where I was when Celtic destroyed the city. I saved Quixotic from two of his henchman, and we rode off into the countryside. You know the rest of the story." He paused, leaning on a relatively small oak tree. "What about you?"

Nitesco swallowed. "Well, I wasn't in it for the glory or fame or money or what have you. I joined the foreign legion because life in Guns N' Roses was boring. I mean, I love my homeland, and heaven help the man who harms it, but it was tedious. My parents were serfs. I hated the prospect of working the same strip of land for the rest of my life, so I ran. I ran away. I was never caught either. I hid in the city for three years, before I finally came of age and joined the legion. It was exciting, I had always loved the tales of dashing heroes and valiant knights. But war…" He trailed off, painful memories surging through his mind like a river.

"War is different. But even if I die in this fight, I'm still glad it was here and not on some godforsaken dirt farm in the middle of nowhere."

Gwydion nodded, smiling. "I understand. You're very brave, for such a young man."

"No. I'm not." He looked at the ground, sighing regretfully. They stood awkwardly for a couple seconds before Gwydion finally broke the silence.

"Hey, let's not dwell on the past. Let's look to the future. Specifically, the mess hall, because I didn't have breakfast." The pair shared a halfhearted chuckle. Gwydion patted Nitesco on the shoulder, comforting him as they walked towards the distant smells of fresh bread through the lush forest.

* * *

Austin and Quixotic stood in a small clearing in the woods, surveying the surrounding foliage for any disguised or hidden threats. Quixotic sighed tiredly, sitting down in the matted grass. Austin, seeing his compatriot taking a moment to rest, laid down beside him, staring up at the few wispy clouds in the early morning sky.

"Man, this sucks! There's nothing to do!"

Austin sat up and looked at Quixotic with derision. "If we had something to do, it would distract us from our duties."

Quixotic sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose and rolled over on his side. Austin looked at him nonchalantly. "Is something wrong?"

Quixotic groaned. "I just looked at the sun. Holy shit, do I have a screaming headache."

"I believe that's called sobriety."

The drunkard blindly tried to backhand him, but missed and swiped the ground. "Smartass."

Austin laughed, folding his hands behind his head and lying down.

"So why do you drink so much?"

"If I stop drinking, the cumulative hangover will kill me."

"You know what I mean."

His compatriot grunted, trying to remember his cover story through the haze of a hangover.

"Well, I was exiled from my homeland, so I started meandering about the Subreddit. First I stopped in Guns N' Roses, then Night's Watch. The Third Shipping War broke out, I joined as a mercenary, fought for White Rose. I saw shit. I learned the hard way what war does to a person. I picked up a drinking problem and a ride to Bumblebee, and I carved out a living selling trinkets and doing odd jobs for a guy."

Austin placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, silently sympathizing with the experiences of war.

"I understand. War is hard. War…war never changes. You know, I used to be a top general for Guns N' Roses."

Quixotic looked over at him, cracking his eyelids open just enough to prompt Austin to continue dumping his exposition on him.

"I was a prodigy. As a child, I studied great strategists like Exo II and Nightswatchh, and the decisive battles of the First Shipping War. I learned everything there was about fighting, every tactic there was to understand. I pored over books of strategy and countless volumes of history."

Quixotic nodded, trying not to let the throbbing pain in his head lull him to sleep.

"I trained as a knight under King Pykoh. We were roped into the Second Shipping War on the side of White-Rose and Bumblebee. I thought I was ready; I was very, very wrong."

Quixotic inhaled sharply in a desperate attempt to keep himself awake.

"I saw men tear each other apart with their bare hands. I saw the most gruesome acts of cruelty I ever thought I would see. Heads rolling, men crying and screaming in pain, an ocean of blood enveloping the battlefield. I was absolutely horrified."

"It got worse. The civilians? They died too. I burned their homes and villages. I led soldiers as they killed every man and child, and looted their homes. I stood by and watched as their lives collapsed before their eyes, before they earned the mercy of the sword. And do you know what? They gave me the fucking medal of honor when all was said and done. Ten thousand lives on my conscience, if not more, and I got a pat on the back and a fat pension for it." The drunkard sat up, genuinely intrigued and shaken out of his stupor, now intently focused on Austin and his story.

"What happened next?"

Austin snickered darkly. "I couldn't take it. I got a villa in the countryside, the best around, but I spent every day I could away from it. I was wracked with guilt. I would spend entire days on end in prayer, asking for forgiveness, or wandering about the town, drinking and whoring, trying to forget my misdeeds. Eventually the stress became too much to bear, so I purchased enough poison to kill a cow and planned to use it on myself. Then, I had an idea."

"I invited the king, his nobles, and his commanders to my villa for a feast. I got them all seated, poured them some wine, and put a dose of the toxin in each glass. They drank and laughed the whole night, until they started choking on their own vile spittle. I watched as they gasped their air, clutched their throats and begged for mercy and swore that they would have revenge. I did nothing; I stood idly by just like I had so many times before."

"I took their gold and horses and fled to Bumblebee. I was caught crossing the border by our very own General Jaeger, to whom I told the whole story. He took me in and allowed me an opportunity to settle on the land in exchange for Guns N' Roses state secrets. I settled in the countryside, taking my talents and applying them to poetry and the theatre. I wrote and sold scripts to make an honest living; and no one was the wiser, save for the General and now, you."

Quixotic sat in reverent awe, newly aware to the bloody truth of the man sitting beside him. He waited in silence for about a minute before turning to the veteran and asking him another question.

"Why did you tell me this?"

Austin sighed remorsefully, showing his true age. "Because we need to trust each other. Fate, God, whatever you call it, has driven us together. Celtic and his goons are just more butchers seeking to continue the cycle of war. If we're going to stop him, we all need to work together, and we can do that best without secrets to come between us."

The agent exhaled, concealing his guilt behind a façade of resignation. "I suppose you're right." He spoke quietly. "Is it alright if I take a piss?"

Austin shrugged. "Be my guest. I'm not going to stop you."

Quixotic nodded in gratitude, wobbled as he stood up and disappeared into the forest. He wandered through the dense vegetation, swiping away branches and trying his best to avoid prickle bushed as he arrived at a suitable spot.

A rustle in the fallen leaves to his right brought him to attention, and he turned to face a man in typical Bumblebee armor, the Golden Bee emblazoned on his armor. He pulled a small envelope, intricately stamped and sealed with the sigil of Top Shelf. Quixotic took the note as the soldier stroked his long black mustache and spoke in a deep country accent.

"A note, my good sir, from our mutual friend." He backed away, fading into the deep green of the forest.

Quixotic gently unsealed and opened the card, delicately extracting the precious note. He unfolded it and read the somewhat scratchy handwriting of his master.

 _My Agent,_

 _It has come to my attention that certain forces throughout the Subreddit were responsible for the incursion of the false king Celtic and the armies of his supporters. A man working for him stole the plans you gave me and delivered them to Celtic, but there was a man on the inside._

 _A certain noble in the court of Queen Jillian IV of the Days dynasty, may she rest in peace, used his influence to make sure that the legions in defense of the capital were disorganized as possible as to allow the Night's Watch armies to conquer them as easily as possible. The man behind this is General Kuchen Jaeger, cousin to the Queen and potential heir to the throne._

 _He and his duplicitous conspirators have had this plan long in the making, but we have identified his allies in the circles of most large governments. We are dispatching men to eliminate threats to Top Shelf's ambitions in the Subreddit, but I am assigning the most important task to you._

 _Your mission is to cut off one head of this hydra, and eliminate the mole in Bumblebee's ranks. I want you to kill General Jaeger, and end his futile attempts for dominance._

 _May you be wisely guided._

 _-N_

Quixotic held the note in his hands, numb from Jaeger's apparent betrayal. He crumpled up the note and shoved it in his pocket before trudging back through the forest to his post. He walked up to Austin and sat down next to him.

"Quixotic-" Austin asked, "-is something the matter?"

The agent turned his head to Austin and did his best at an unconcerned grin.

"No, my friend. Nothing at all."


	6. Chapter 6

Columns of smoke billowed from the burnt, ashen remains of the Bumblebee capital city as cries of victory from the invaders echoed up to the capitol castle and an unlucky few were assigned to douse the flames. Inferno leaned on the balcony, overlooking the carnage he'd helped to inflict. The soft click of military boots alerted him to another's presence; when he turned around, Vulpix was standing there, in his hands were two glasses of the finest champagne.

"A glass, my friend?"

Inferno took the glass, raised it, and took a sip.

"Celtic's got a bit of a drinking problem, hasn't he?"

Vulpix laughed, sipping the glass before placing it on the smooth handrail. "I suppose. We all have our faults."

They stopped, turning their attention to the smoky horizon and the vast graveyard outside the city walls where the battle occurred. The general wiped his nails on his uniform before speaking again.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

The king shrugged and returned to gazing down at the ever-present fires in the former mercantile district. Vulpix studied him intensely while Inferno tried to avoid his gaze.

"You feel guilty, don't you?"

Inferno sighed, leaning on the balcony railing dazedly. "It's not what I feel. It's what I don't feel. I don't feel guilty. I know I should, thousands of people died on my orders, on their side and mine. And yet, I don't. I feel…"

He paused uncomfortably. Vulpix met his gaze, prompting him to go on.

"I feel powerful."

Vulpix smirked triumphantly and leaned on the wall, earning him a scornful glance from Inferno.

"And thus, it comes forth. See, you've been an altruistic, yet shrewd ruler for most of your reign. You played the game of intrigue as necessary, but you avoided war. You kept your nation out of the Shipping Wars and prevented yourself from sinking into tyranny and harsh discipline during times of internal strife. But you've been lying to yourself. You wanted to that feel power, but you realized what that would do. So you deceived everyone, and you did such a good job at it that you managed to fool even yourself. When Celtic asked you to join, you didn't join because you had to. You joined because you wanted to, but you would never admit it. You wanted more power, more influence. You've restrained yourself for damn near your entire life. We can't have restraint. We can't have anything holding us back."

The general advanced to Inferno's side, placing a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Inferno sighed.

"You're right. I can't deny myself anymore." He paused. "Thank you."

Vulpix nodded. "Anything to help an ally."

They smiled and gazed over the landscape below.

"If I may ask," said Inferno, "why did you agree to help Celtic?"

The general leaned back. "I think we both know the Third Shipping War went… poorly for Arkos. Our nation was left in shambles; our people in the grip of poverty, much like Emberald. Our crops were burned, and our military was all but annihilated. We survived, but our power, our influence, they were lost."

"Our neighbor to the northwest, Nuts and Dolts, was in a similar state, ravaged by a war merely because they were unlucky enough to be in the center of the Subreddit. Both our governments were in shambles, so we formed a military council, five generals from each country. Stabilizing our governments was just the first step, but we soon discovered another obstacle. We still had valuable lands to our name, and the eyes of the Mod Council slowly but surely began to turn in our direction. Our demise was inevitable. We resigned ourselves to the plundering that was to come."

"Into our midst came our savior, the exiled lord of Night's Watch, with the leader of the Emberist movement. He offered us a pact: he would lend us his military support and in return, we would join his conspiracy and accept him as their king. I was the only one who accepted. The others met an… unfortunate fate for their hubris."

"I fight for my nation. You fight for power. It doesn't matter, as long as you fight until the end."

Inferno took another gulp from his glass of wine, considering his colleague's words carefully as they both stared, entranced, into the dark of the early morning.

"My friends, my friends!" Celtic's voice rang out behind them, startling them as Celtic entered, laughing jovially. Yukon, Greatness and Jokey followed close behind him, in various stages of inebriation. "Must you exile yourselves to the balcony? Come, join us inside!"

Yukon's mask was lifted up just above his mouth, allowing him to drink. He took a swig from the wine bottle he held, drops of alcohol adhering to the charred skin around his lips before he passed the bottle to Celtic, who also took a large gulp.

"Unless you'd like to stay out here and-" He snickered. "-bond some more." The four laughed lightheartedly as Inferno scowled and Vulpix averted his gaze.

"I kid, of course. Please, come inside, the wine is in here."

The group walked inside the perpetually pristine Capitol Castle. Unlike most of the structures below them, the building was left virtually untouched after its defenders surrendered. Celtic plopped down on the soft velvet padding of the throne while his fellows gathered around, not noticing the body of the former queen being carried away to be properly buried.

"Where's Maker? I haven't seen her since we took this building."

Greatness cast a few cursory glances around the throne room to illustrate his point, while Inferno scoffed. "What would she add to the conversation? I've not heard her say anything of substance, just the ramblings of someone who's been around her alchemy too long."

Celtic leaned back and dropped the now-emptied wine bottle next to the throne. He raised his arm theatrically, gesturing to Jokey to retrieve another before he slouched comfortably and folded his hands in his stomach.

"Oh, Maker can be quite articulate when she wishes. But being around all those chemicals all day can't be good for anyone, least of all someone who's cooking them up to destroy her former home."

Inferno cocked his head, intrigued. "Her former home?"

"Indeed. Why don't you ask her yourself?"

The men turned to see Maker standing, still clad in her nondescript brown robe. Jokey advanced out of the cellar door behind her, holding a flask of champagne and glancing about uncomfortably. "It's quite alright." She waved her hand, beckoning a nervous Jokey to advance past her and present Celtic with the champagne. He took the bottle and set it down next to the throne as he listened attentively to Maker's tale.

"I was once a healer. I was the finest in the land. I knew every tonic and concoction that one could make, and I had created more than a few new ones from scratch myself. I was invited to the court of the King to serve as his personal physician. Of course, he had his enemies."

"One day, he fell ill with pneumonia. As his physician, I was tasked with reviving him, and keeping him alive. I created some medicine for him, but I was sabotaged. His cousin from a cadet line of House Apidae, House Vespula, poured a shaker of salt into my concoction while I was distracted. He spoiled the batch and created a toxin instead of a cure."

"The king died the next day. The Vespula conspirators came forth and framed me for his death, using the concoction I created for him as proof of my duplicity. I was arrested and taken to a prison near the Baked Alaska mountains, and I was tortured. The rack, beatings, brandings, every conceivable pain they could've brought upon me, they did."

"Celtic received news of an opportunity, and sent Vulpix, disguised as a guard. He snuck into my cell and gave me an offer. Join and swear fealty, or be left to suffer. I didn't even have to think about the answer."

Maker clasped her hands behind her back, a wry grin crossing her thin face. She walked up towards the small group, taking a place besides Celtic and placing her hand lightly on the edge of the throne. Celtic shifted immeasurably away from her hand.

"It was regretful to destroy my home, but it had to be done. The Vespulas are only one example of the corruption entrenched in our beloved Subreddit. We must cleanse this corruption, wipe the slate clean and begin anew. Only through chaos can order arise, and I intend to spread chaos far and wide."

Yukon sighed, walking over to the side of the throne opposite Maker and picked up the bottle. He popped the cork, took another swig and leaned loosely next to Celtic.

"If you're all done expositing, I propose we strategize. We no longer have the element of surprise on our side, and we are desperately outnumbered. As much as I'd like to continue drinking, we need to plan. Any suggestions?"

Greatness spoke up. "I concur. We need to prepare for the next battle, wherever that may be. I suggest…"

Celtic snapped his fingers, cutting Greatness off mid-sentence. A rustling behind the curtains in a dark corner of the room alerted them all to another presence in the castle. The curtains were forced to the side, revealing a man standing behind them.

Jokey breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, it's just you Nachbar. I was afraid I would have to sully this room with even more Bumblebee blood." A sick smile formed on his countenance, leading Nachbar to shudder involuntarily. Nonetheless, he advanced forward, a wad of papers in his hand.

Yukon sighed. "Were you standing there that whole time just so you could make that reveal?"

"Possibly. I've always had a penchant for the theatre." Peter smiled and walked through the group, placed the papers in Celtic's hand and stepped away carefully. Celtic dramatically thrust the papers into the air and pointed at them.

"You see, gentlemen, these papers are going to win us the war. Peter is an officer within the Top Shelf organization, and, like the rest of us, seen the corruption in the subreddit. He has a vast array of loyal supporters at his disposal. You see, my friends, those men he has under his thumb are part of my plan to cripple our enemies before we even have to fight them."

"These letters are the key to that plan. Peter has written these letters and at my command, will send out messengers to deliver them to men loyal to him, as well as those he can fool, bribe or blackmail into servitude. He will pit the agents against members of rival governments, incriminating them as being a secret backer of this rebellion. They will plunge their knives into each other's backs, and if they haven't collapsed into anarchy or civil war, then we will destroy them with the might of our military, it's as simple as that."

Proud of his accomplishment, Nachbar smiled deviously. Celtic nodded and waved him off before returning to face his Council, which waited to be dismissed.

"Well, my friends, you may return to the celebrations at hand. Rest assured that by weeks end, the wretched kingdoms of the Subreddit will be all but subservient to our cause. Glory!"

Everyone but Inferno thrust their fist in the air. "Glory!" The group then disbanded, Vulpix, Greatness and Inferno exiting the hall to speak with their troops, and Maker to return to her experiments. Celtic folded his hands into a ball and folded them in his lap, a grimace sullying his normally eager countenance.

"You don't trust him, do you?" Jokey leaned in, making sure nobody else was in an earshot.

"No. He wields too much influence to be fully trusted. Crosshares all but enveloped the Fan-Art League after the end of the Third Shipping War. He's ambitious, and he's powerful. For now, we will extend our influence over his territory and troops. We will eliminate him quietly, we will blame it on our enemies, and we will bring Crosshares under our control."

Yukon stroked his chin and hiccupped. "Suppose he finds out. Suppose he executes a power play of his own."

Celtic scoffed. "We can handle it. Even if the idiot tries a coup de tat, or god forbid, a military rebellion, we can outmaneuver him. At the very least, his survival interest puts such plans far into the future. We have nothing to worry about."

Yukon rolled his eyes so dramatically Celtic could see it under the high priest's mask. "If you say so. It never hurts to have a backup plan."

"Don't be so pessimistic! If I didn't know better, I'd say you've started to believe the gibberish you spout to your acolytes."

The trio laughed loudly, enough to disturb and earn them a strange look from the guards stationed outside the throne room.

"Shall I grab another cask of wine, my liege? It seems Yukon has polished off yet another."

Yukon turned his attention to the empty wine bottle in his hand. "Ah, shit. It seems I have." Celtic groaned and nodded at Jokey, who promptly disappeared into the wine cellar to fetch another bottle.

From behind a newly hung banner of Night's Watch, Peter smirked triumphantly and stifled a chuckle. He wrote on a small pad of paper, shoved it into the inside pocket of his cloak, and quietly exited the building, celebrating his silent victory.


	7. Chapter 7

The sharp sound of steel on steel pierced Gwydion's ears as he was violently awoken from his slumber. He groaned, unaccustomed to being up that early in the morning, before standing up and stumbling out of the tent. The first rays of the sun shone over the treetops, illuminating the nigh abandoned war camp. The only three occupants were Quixotic, Austin and Nitesco. The latter two were busy swinging their dulled training blades at each other, a shrill clang resounding about every time their swords met.

"What the hell are you two doing up so early?"

Nitesco turned to find the source of the noise, an unusually dim expression plastered onto his face. Austin, disappointed in his pupil, raised his training blade and lightly tapped Nitesco on the chest. The strike, if one could call it that, sent Nitesco backwards at a disproportionate speed.

"Oh dear," Austin said dryly. "Did I do that?"

Nitesco and Quixotic both giggled like small children, eliciting an exasperated groan from Austin. Quixotic stood up from a log near the tree line and shrugged as he addressed Gwydion.

"We're all trying to teach the lad our skills. I'm a man with less… reputable experiences, so last night, I thought I'd teach him some of the ways of the underworld. And my first lesson—" he stopped and hiccupped, earning him another exasperated look from Austin. "—was how to hold his liquor."

Gwydion smiled, amused. "And how did he do?"

Nitesco, lying on his back, pumped a fist in the air and laughed triumphantly before his arm turned slack and returned to the ground.

"He went 'bout three rounds before he passed out. That's below average, but that's better than I thought he'd do. Up top."

Nitesco sat up awkwardly, blindly waving in Quixotic's direction. Quixotic started to shamble towards him, only to be interrupted by the earsplitting cry of a bugle which signaled the soldiers to line up for inspection.

Gwydion furrowed his brow, not wanting to be seen with the two drunkards during the inspection. "Austin, what do you say we skip camp and go down to the river? I'd rather not be seen with these embarrassments."

Quixotic hiccupped and tripped over a rock, almost on cue.

Austin nodded firmly. "I think that is a fantastic idea."

The pair disappeared into the forests surrounding the clearing Jaeger had ordered them to set up camp in for the night, shuffling through the vegetation until they reached the riverbank.

"Oh my. I need a break from this sometimes." Austin spoke first, wiping his forehead and sighing forlornly. Gwydion placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I understand. I wish… I wish we could go back to the way it was before."

Austin smiled as he gazed out on the horizon. "Me too. It was a simpler time that we—" He paused. "Do you hear that?"

Gwydion held his breath, listening to the sound of rustling vegetation. "That's just an animal." he said.

"Listen again."

Gwydion once again held his breath and listened closer. The sound of moving leaves continued, but was punctuated by the sound of a person, a person who was breathing heavily. Austin and Gwydion locked eyes before diving behind two different trees for cover.

On the beaten dirt path along the water came a rather short man, out of breath and armed only with a short blade. He was clothed only in a common tunic, and was fearfully inspecting every tree and bush that surrounded him, as if looking for someone. Austin nodded to Gwydion before leaping out from behind his tree.

The short man saw him and tried to run, but was intercepted by Gwydion. The blacksmith body-checked him, which sent him to the ground and knocked his sword from his hand. Austin grabbed his arms and pinned him to the ground, while Gwydion stood menacingly over him.

"Who are you? How did you find us?" Gwydion leaned in, causing the man to squeal.

"I don't know who you are! I wasn't looking for anyone in particular!"

Austin saw the man up before twisting his arms behind his back. "What are you doing out here, then?"

"I bring a message from the Renora queen!" He inhaled sharply, suppressing another squeal.

"She seeks allies against Celtic. He's already forced Enabler and Lancaster to submit, and his eyes have turned to us now. I'm just a messenger, please don't kill me!" He struggled against Austin's grip, prompting the veteran to let him go.

"Fine. But you're coming back to camp with us," Austin said. The cowardly courier nodded profusely. Gwydion grabbed him by the arm, dragging him along as they trudged through the trees back to the encampment.

"General! General!" Their cries alerted Jaeger, who was busy lecturing Nitesco and Quixotic.

"What? Where have you two been? I've been looking—"

Gwydion threw the envoy on the ground. "We found him lurking around by the river. He claims to be a messenger from Renora, but we wanted you to make sure first."

"It's true, it's true!" The man fumbled about in his belt pouch until he found a crumpled-up parchment. He handed it to Jaeger. "Read this if you don't believe me!"

Jaeger's eyes widened as he scanned the document and formulated a response. "The capital is half a day's march from here. If we depart within the hour and follow Confirmed River, we should reach the city by sundown. The Renorans should lend us their support against Celtic, and together we'll finish this revolt." The general turned to face his men, who were busy eating breakfast. "Alright, men! We're packing up immediately! Spread the word: finish your breakfast and take down the tents, we're marching towards Renora to finish this once and for all!" The men cheered and began taking down the tents.

Austin and Gwydion walked towards their teammates, who were in the beginning stages of a hangover. The pair sighed in unison and began pulling their tent stakes from the ground.

"Excuse me?" The courier spoke timidly. "What do I do now?"

Austin sighed and turned his attention away from the stakes. "You'll join our little legion here, and when the time comes you'll fight Celtic with us." The man seized up at the mention of fighting, but Austin outstretched his hand to calm him.

"Don't focus on that right now. First, you'll help us take down this tent, seeing as how two of my friends are indisposed. Would you be a dear and get that one for me?"

The envoy nodded, got down and pulled the stake from the ground. The tent came down, was packed up, and soon the Bumblebee remnant was making its final march to Renora.

The evening peace was disconcerting.

From the walls over the South Gate of the Renora capital, King Zentics looked down, watching and listening as the rustling of the trees in the forest outside his capital alerted him to the presence of an army. Celtic marched towards his home, planning to absorb it into his kingdom, or worse, destroy it as he did with Bumblebee. As the first lines of infantry emerged from the woods, Zentics signaled for his men to ready their bows.

The men, bearing the colors of Night's Watch, continued streaming through the trees, approaching the city walls as they calmly advanced over the plain between the forest and the capital. A bugle sounded; almost immediately they stopped and made a space down the middle. From the opposite end of the field, Celtic and his lieutenants began riding calmly through the divide, flanked by members of the 942nd Cavaliers, the most famous mercenary company in the Subreddit. About twenty meters from the gate he and his escort halted, and Celtic raised a hand towards Zentics as an expression of peace.

"I come in peace, Zentics! I mean you and your nation no harm!"

Zentics laughed in disbelief. "Your actions indicate otherwise. Just today, seven of my lords and generals were assassinated. Four of them killed each other. I don't know how you did this, but it shows you cannot be trusted."

"As opposed to what?" He opened his arms, gesturing to the legions at his back. "It is far better for your health and your people to trust me. I only wish to parlay. I wish to solve this diplomatically."

Zentics scowled. "You could've just asked. My courtiers didn't need to die."

"Are we going to parlay or do we have to do this the difficult way?"

The Renora king sighed in defeat and gestured for his archers to stand down. "Fine. But I get to dictate some of the terms of my surrender. And only five of your number will be allowed to speak with me. Inside the city."

"I would expect nothing less." Celtic steered his horse so he was facing his co-conspirators. "Yukon, Vulpix, Inferno. You'll handle the diplomatic areas. Jokey, you and Samurai will provide security. Look out for suspicious behavior. Go." He gestured for the five to advance.

The portcullis was raised, and the five impromptu diplomats rode through while they received distrustful glares from the Renora soldiers. Jokey looked around nervously, earning him Samurai's attention.

"Jokey? Are you alright?"

"Yes. Fine." He shook himself, as if trying to rouse himself from a trance. "I didn't expect to ever come home. Especially not like this…"

"Why not?"

Jokey sighed. "Perhaps later. Now isn't the best time." Samurai shrugged and continued forward.

When the five reached the castle, they stopped and dismounted, all the while remaining ever vigilant for possible assassins. They followed Zentics and his guardsmen through the castle gate and the lush, verdant courtyard into the throne room. There, two guardsmen shut the door behind them, leaving only Zentics, his wife, a couple bodyguards and the diplomats inside.

Zentic's queen, Herzlosa, sat up and groaned at their arrival, gently setting her crown onto her chair before rolling up her sleeves and walking up to Inferno.

"Oh joy, the little insurrection has arrived. Didn't you get your rocks off with Bumblebee, must Renora now suffer this indignity too?"

Yukon stepped forward, lightly but forcefully pushing the woman away from them. "I'd suggest a tone a little more respectful, considering you're about to become our vassals."

Herzlosa snickered, earning her a scornful glance from her husband.

"And who might you be? Either a religious cultist or an edgy teenager who thinks that a mask like that…" Her gaze wandered from Yukon to Inferno to Samurai and finally, to Jokey. Upon seeing him, her haughty expression turned to one of barely contained anger and she jabbed a finger violently in his direction.

"YOU!"

Jokey sighed, already exasperated.

"Hello, mother."

The queen turned white with fury and immediately moved so close to Jokey that he instinctively recoiled.

"I TOLD YOU NEVER TO RETURN HERE!"

Jokey pushed her away, angry. "I don't give a damn what you told me!"

"Yes, your childhood proved that. Your father and I had such high hopes for you as a child. You could've become a singer, or one of the war engineers. But no. You were strange. You were sick. You spent all the time you could tinkering with your machines, to better inflict suffering on the poor animals behind our house. Do you know how difficult it was, keeping that hidden from my friends? From my family? I should've cast you from the wall as an infant."

Jokey balled his fists. "That was then. This is now."

Herzlosa laughed, her previous haughtiness returning in full. "And still, you haven't changed. You're still just as self-righteous and sadistic as you were as a child, but now that you've got a flag to carry, you're master of the universe!"

"Celtic saved me. After you cast me out." Jokey's hand inched, slowly but surely over to the hilt of his blade. "He taught me how to fight. He taught me how to lead. And he showed me the corruption that has afflicted the Subreddit since its creation! He is more of a parent to me than you ever were!"

"I did what needed to be done. Your infernal machine cost me my husband and my son. I couldn't bring myself to kill you, but now I realize my mistake."

Jokey rocketed forwards, hands out, and tackled his mother. He shrieked in anger and began throttling her against the stone floor while the Kingsguard readied their weapons. Samurai and Vulpix pried Jokey from the queen as Yukon tried to calm the guards down.

"Easy, easy. No need for bloodshed. We just want to discuss terms."

Zentics sighed and slouched in his throne. "Alright. I have some terms."

Vulpix returned to his natural, composed state and walked calmly up to the king. "You understand what will happen if you resist, if you kill us. I hate to say it, but you have no say in these matters. Inferno, would you tell our friends the terms of surrender?"

Inferno stepped forward, gesturing dramatically. "Much obliged. In simple terms, you and your kingdom will become vassals of the Celtic Council. You will surrender control of three-fourths of the current Renora military to us, but you will retain the remaining fourth as peacekeepers. You will give us a quarter of the gold in your treasury, and you will provide us a monthly tribute of a sixteenth of your income. You will swear fealty to me, and you will lend your remaining military forces when I ask them of you. Do you understand?"

Zentics shrugged. "It seems I have no choice. Where do I sign?" Inferno reached into his pouch and produced a document and a quill. Zentics dipped the quill in a container of ink next to his throne and signed. Inferno, happy, rolled up the document and returned it to his pocket.

"Sire! Sire! Bumblebee soldiers are coming out of the forest!"

One of the guards next to the window gestured to the advancing legions, summoning the king, queen and diplomats to the window. Despite the shroud of darkness and fog, the brazen banner of Bumblebee could be plainly seen, even from the castle. Herzlosa turned and laughed condescendingly at the five.

"HA! My messengers got lucky after all. With the remaining Bumblebee legions at Renora's back, we will CRUSH your pathetic rebellion once and for all!"

Yukon chuckled maliciously. "Not so fast. The good king here just signed Renora into becoming Celtic's vassal. You are now sworn to stand with us in any military conflict, but you just threatened to act against us, which means…" he motioned toward one of the guards to finish his statement.

Hesitantly, one of the guards turned towards his queen, tension imprinted on his face. "I'm sorry, my queen, but our liege is Celtic now. Our loyalty is to him, and you, my queen, have committed treason." Almost instantly, her arrogance and pride disappeared from her face, replaced by fear. She turned to her husband, silently pleading for clemency. Jokey turned towards the king, a smug smile on his face, and shook his head.

"That would be a mistake, my good sir."

Zentics nodded. "Indeed it would be. Guards, take her away. We'll deal with her later."

The two guards closest to her looped their arms around hers, restraining her. The queen, instead of crying out or fighting back, merely went limp, a horrified, hateful expression on her face. As the pair dragged their former commander through the door to the dungeons, she kept her eyes trained on her son, who merely smirked in return.

"Now what? Do we join our master?" Samurai asked.

"I'm keeping my legions out of the fighting," the king said. "I'll need my military to keep order after news of our surrender is spread. Besides, I'm sure Celtic can handle this on his own."

Outside the city walls, Celtic watched as his foes marched towards him, brazen and bold in the evening cool. He turned to his remaining three lieutenants: Greatness, Nachbar and Maker.

"They're even stupider than I thought they'd be." Greatness chuckled darkly. "Shall I deal with them, my liege?"

"Yes." Celtic beckoned for Greatness to hand him his axe.

"It's time we finish this, once and for all."


	8. Chapter 8

"CHAAAARGE!"

Jaeger wasted no time in raising his sword and sweeping the men behind him into a contagious rage. Soon, his cry was overshadowed by an eruption of anger and righteous fury as the men behind him exploded into battle cries. Only the most jaded veterans and the most fearful recruits failed to join in.

Jaeger leveled his sword at Celtic's army, and the legions behind him spilled forth down the hill in a stampede. Across the field, Celtic's formerly complacent and collected soldiers dropped their composure as they began howling like banshees before charging out on the battlefield, seeking to drench it in Bumblebee blood. Celtic and his three lieutenants looked on as the slaughter commenced.

"My liege, should I rally my men?" Greatness asked. Celtic quickly scanned the battlefield as he formulated his orders.

"Yes. Don't have them engage directly; have them march around, through the forests. Attack from behind and cut off the enemy's escape." Greatness nodded and beckoned for his men to follow as he marched into the forest.

Celtic's remaining two lieutenants stayed, awaiting their orders.

"Celtic, may I try out my new invention?" Maker asked. "Jokey and I spent days preparing it, and I'm eager to see what it can do." Though she tried to conceal it, Maker's voice swelled with childish glee and anticipation. The king grinned, pleased that she too would take part in the bloodshed.

"Do whatever you wish, so long as it brings harm to our enemies." He turned to Nachbar. "Both of you."

Nachbar smirked and crept into the treeline.

Maker finally unpinned her ever-present cloak, watching as it fell to the ground. Underneath, she was a leather vest that stretched down over her stomach and lower back. Beneath the vest she wore a simple cotton tunic and pants, the ends of which were stuffed into her gauntlets and leather boots. She flexed her fingers, admiring the gauntlet she had created and an arrow loaded in it that would soon pierce an unlucky soldier's skull. She beamed at Celtic before tearing off in search of blood.

Austin and Gwydion were too caught up in the heat of battle to notice the blonde menace bolting across the battlefield, nor the mercenary legion creeping through the trees. Gwydion looked around, noting two of his allies had vanished.

"Nitesco and Quixotic have disappeared."

Austin sighed. "I think that was inevitable." He paused. "What exactly is Jaeger's plan?"

Gwydion shrugged. "Don't look at me. You're the one who's supposed to have the bright ideas."

Austin crouched behind a rock; Gwydion followed suit just as an arrow flew over his head.

"Speaking of ideas," Gwydion said, "do you have any? Now would be a good time."

Austin growled in frustration. "I don't know why Jaeger is being so reckless. We're outnumbered three to one, but right now we have the higher ground, so we can keep up the offensive. If Renora lends their help, we'll be able to survive this battle, but that's the only way. Unless we left now…"

Gwydion suddenly shook him out of his stupor. With a horrified expression on his face, Gwydion pointed to the soldiers streaming out from the trees, intent on pulverizing them from behind. Austin followed Gwydion's gaze, and seeing their hope of escape dashed, began looking around frantically for another route.

"Austin! What do we do now?" Gwydion's voice rose in panic and fear of what seemed to be their imminent death. Austin merely stood and drew his sword.

"We fight. I'll figure something out." He smiled, masking his fear with an expression of certainty and hoping it would calm his colleague long enough for him to regain his focus. They looked over the edge of the hill they were on, watching as the mercenaries of the infamous 942nd Cavaliers tore through the Bumblebee soldiers like rotted parchment. A few broke through the lines and started making their way towards the pair's position.

The two charged forward, wildly swinging in front of them and forcing the mercenaries down the hill. As a platoon of Bumblebee soldiers marched behind them and came to their aid, the leader of the legion stepped down from his horse and readied his greatsword.

"Aha! More lambs to the slaughter." He angled his blade at Austin, scrutinizing him.

"I've not met you-" He quickly turned to Gwydion, looking him up and down through the thin slits in his helmet. "But you. You seem familiar."

"If I recall correctly, I took you down like a little bitch during the siege of Bumblebee." He hissed tauntingly at the behemoth of a man, hoping to provoke him to anger. Greatness merely grunted and leaned closer, scrutinizing Gwydion further.

"No, it wasn't just that. Something more. Something… before that." Greatness suddenly snapped himself out of his own stupor and readied his sword.

"Not that it matters. I'll figure out who you are once you're dead." Greatness lunged forward, his weapon swinging around like a steel whirlwind and knocking his enemies aside. Austin was brutally struck aside, while Gwydion pressed the assault.

He was surprised by how quick Greatness' weapon was, despite its weight and power. The commander swung it into the ground, knocking Gwydion's sword to the ground before pinning Gwydion against a rock with the long hilt.

"Cut me…break my bones…sure. But no one, no one disrespects my swords!"

Gwydion felt his anger rise from deep within him as he raised his foot. He brought it down as hard as he could into the side of Greatness' knee, chuckling as Greatness' weight forced him to the ground. The blacksmith dove for his sword, grabbed it and stood up as Austin recovered from his beating. Both leveled their swords at him.

"Give up, you crazy fool!" Austin shouted as he took a step towards the fallen giant, who only laughed.

"But I have the upper hand."

Greatness reached behind him, unbuckling a crossbow and leveling it at the veteran, who instinctively took a step back. Greatness merely smirked and pulled the trigger. The arrow flew through the air and skimmed Austin's hand before skimming his jawbone and continuing onward. He reeled back, pressing his free hand on the wound as Greatness charged Gwydion, forcing him back. "Austin!" He cried out, hoping he would come to his aid. Austin, despite his intense bleeding, managed to blindly swing at Greatness, which unbalanced him long enough for Austin to find an escape route.

"Gwydion! Follow me!" He turned and sprinted down the side of the hill, through the writhing masses of clashing warriors, trying his hardest not to be hit or drawn into a skirmish. Gwydion, after casting one last glance behind him, followed Austin as he made a path through the battle.

* * *

The other pair fared just as poorly.

Quixotic had known it would be difficult. He had brought his lucky dagger along, the one with his initials engraved into the hilt, but he'd failed to realize how many men Celtic actually commanded. He'd thought Renora would leap at the chance to destroy Celtic, but so far, no aid had come.

And now he was surrounded and outnumbered. He'd known it would be difficult, but this was ridiculous.

Another soldier lunged at him, but Quixotic swiftly sidestepped it and punctured the attacker's abdomen, watching as he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. General Jaeger was busy as well, fending off the remaining soldiers attacking him. He didn't even need to kill them, one slice from his serrated sword was all he needed to push them back.

Nitesco tried to fend off Celtic's men using nonlethal methods, but ended up on the defensive as one of the soldiers charged him ruthlessly. Quixotic, seeing this, lunged at the man and stuck his dagger through his neck. He watched as the blood sprayed from the wound as he pulled his blade out and let the body hit the ground.

"Jaeger!" He screamed, angry. "Give the order to retreat! Renora has abandoned us, and we're getting slaughtered!"

"Not yet!" The general whirled around and beheaded an unfortunate Arkos recruit, who had been sprinting away from a group of Bumblebee soldiers. "We can still turn this around!"

"I don't think so!"

A curiously armed woman descended upon them, leaping gracefully over the corpses that now decorated the area before she stopped and whirled around.

"Greetings, Jaeger and company!" She sounded positively giddy, in a slightly disturbing way. "I am so glad to finally have the chance to meet you after all these years." Saying this, she gave a mocking bow. "Tell me Jaeger, do you remember me?" She reached her hand out, as if she was going to pry the answer from out of his mind.

"You…"

She cut him off, gesturing theatrically as she did so. "I am Octavia Breath, but you may know me better as Maker. I was King Knight's personal physician, before your uncle assassinated him, imprisoned me and killed his wife shortly afterwards, that is." She laughed maniacally.

"You may not have the Vespula name, but you carry their blood through your mother. The Vespula are a stain on the Subreddit, an example of the corruption that we must cleanse through chaos. You and all those who stand with you, must be wiped from the face of the Earth. To the two of you, I offer you a chance to leave."

The trio merely readied their blades in response.

"So be it." She charged, her strange gauntlets whirring and clicking as four blades protruded from either side of her wrists, two from each gauntlet. Nitesco charged her, only for her to raise her palm at him and, with a flick of her middle finger, fire an arrow from a mechanism on the underside of her arm. He barely dodged the arrow and watched as it flew past him and struck Jaeger square in the shoulder.

Quixotic ran at her, madly swinging in an effort to put her on the defensive. Instead of backing up like he had hoped, she leaned into the strikes, blocking his hits with her surprisingly durable wrist-blades. Maker pushed him, unbalancing him and causing him to fall before barreling towards Jaeger. She flew into a rage, stabbing and swinging at him, but being blocked every time. Nitesco body-checked her, but she quickly regained her footing and fired her other arrow at him. This time, the arrow connected, piercing his hip and sending him to the ground.

Quixotic and Jaeger attacked in unison. Maker parried her two attackers with her two hands, frowning slightly after seeing the distinctive marks Jaeger's sword made on her weapon. The alchemist leaped backwards and unbuckled a small sphere from her belt. Nitesco instantly knew what it was.

"Don't breathe!" He cried, and shielded his face.

The blast was not of poison gas, however, but of shrapnel. Bits of metal flew into Quixotic's arm and back as he turned to shield his vulnerable torso. Maker took the opportunity to ready her blades and swoop in for the kill.

Maker advanced towards the injured Jaeger and Quixotic, but failed to see Nitesco stirring behind her. He picked up his sword and as silently as he could, prepared to kill Maker. Unfortunately for him, she took notice and parried the strike, sending him to the ground. Quixotic and Jaeger saw the opening and began attacking ruthlessly, beating her back. She fell to the ground and desperately fumbled with another grenade on her belt. Jaeger angled his sword at her, preparing to finish her off, when she pulled the pin.

Poison gas exploded, filling the air with a sickly green cloud. This was unlike the gas used during the siege of Bumblebee, which had a light orange tint to it; this was clearly meant only to kill. Maker shielded her face with her elbow before fleeing down the side of the hill into the open field.

The trio stumbled backwards, trying desperately to escape the deadly cloud. They ran up the side of another hill, away from the poison and into the trees. From across the battlefield, an especially loud voice rang out: "Retreat! Retreat!" Nitesco leaned against a tree and listened.

"Is that Austin?"

His attention was quickly taken by a squad of Night's Watch soldiers coming over the edge of the hill and plowing through the forest, making a beeline for the trio. In their weakened state, they could not handle all of them.

"Run!" Jaeger screamed, and tore off into the wilderness as fast as he was able. Quixotic followed him, but Nitesco broke off and ran in a different direction, hoping to draw his pursuers away from the general. His plan succeeded, and half of the squad detached and began chasing after him.

Nitesco ducked behind a tree and slid down a wide, mud-covered ridge. He reached the bottom and landed in a small brook, listening as his followers discussed what to do.

"Bart, you stay here in case he doubles back. Brown, you search over there. I'll search over here." Nitesco heard the sounds of footsteps trudging through the forest grass away from him, and began running through the forest again.

The sound of running caught the attention of the soldier left behind, who, upon seeing Nitesco, gave chase. Nitesco sprinted as fast as he could, but tripped over a rock and faceplanted.

"Not again…" He mumbled to himself. The soldier chasing him, apparently named Bart, leaned over Nitesco's motionless form. He chuckled, and raised his axe to finish him off.

Nitesco reached for his sword and brought it around, into Bart's side. Bart collapsed to the ground, wheezing for breath. Nitesco gripped the sword and readied it, preparing to end his attacker's life.

"Please…" His eyes pleaded for mercy.

Nitesco brought his sword down, down into Bart's chest, listening to the violent crack of shattering bones and seeing the gush of blood as it spilled out of his chest. As Nitesco wrenched the blade from Bart's ribcage, the magnitude of what he'd just done washed over him.

 _I just killed a man._

He staggered as his adrenaline-addled mind made the connection.

 _I just…_

He kneeled on the forest ground and vomited. He'd killed a man, without cause. The man had been on the ground, injured, bleeding, and begging for mercy. Even during the battle, he'd held back. He didn't kill anyone. Until now.

He'd chosen to kill Bart. He'd chosen to take that life.

Deeply disturbed by what had just unfolded, Nitesco dazedly picked himself up. He sheathed his now-bloodied sword and numbly made his way to the other side of the forest, hoping that Quixotic or Jaeger would be there.

Unfortunately for him, Quixotic and Jaeger had their own problems.

The pair, despite their shrapnel wounds, managed to escape their pursuers. Even after they were certain the soldiers were out of visible range, they continued sprinting until they found a clearing at the top of a hill, a vantage point that would allow them to see if the soldiers still followed them.

Jaeger, out of breath, laughed triumphantly. "Oh dear, we certainly gave them the slip!" He continued laughing as Quixotic breathed heavily. Quixotic silently drew his blade. His mission could be ended here.

Jaeger turned around and saw Quixotic, who was holding his blade menacingly. The general's celebratory expression faded, and one of bitter realization replaced it.

"Quixotic," He asked angrily, "What is this?"

Quixotic leveled his blade at Jaeger. "I know what you did. I know what you desire. You need to be eliminated."

Jaeger's hand clasped the hilt of his sword. "Quixotic. Don't do this."

The agent sighed. "It's too late for that."

"So it seems."

Jaeger lunged forward, swiping madly at the traitor, who barely managed to raise his dagger to defend himself. Sparks flew as the general's serrated sword clashed against Quixotic's blade, leaving scuff marks wherever he made contact. Jaeger stepped back, spun around and swiftly knocked Quixotic's blade from his hand with a sweeping blow. Quixotic rolled away from Jaeger, who stumbled blindly in his direction.

"I knew something was off about you! I should have killed you long ago!" He folded his sword against his chest, readying for a final thrust.

Quixotic leapt over to his dagger, and in one final, desperate move, threw it at Jaeger.

It connected, striking him in the chest, just to the left of his heart. Jaeger pried the blade from his body and threw it into the bushes before beginning to advance towards Quixotic again.

Instead of walking, however, the warrior collapsed to the ground and began coughing blood. He rolled ungracefully onto his side, facing Quixotic.

"I knew you were a traitor. I knew you didn't truly serve us." Quixotic knelt next to him and placed a hand on Jaeger's sword.

"You can't deceive me, Kuchen," he said. "I know you worked for Celtic."

The warrior laughed darkly.

"Then you're a patsy, boy. A flunky. You've been manipulated, and so have I. I never worked for Celtic. Never. Even the thought of it nauseates me." He spat up more blood and continued speaking.

"You've been played, boy. But I suppose you'll find that out for yourself, soon enough."

His eyes rolled back into his head, and he expired.

Quixotic stood up and sighed.

"Whatever awaits you on the other side, Jaeger, I'm sure you deserve it."

He sheathed the general's sword and began making his way out of the forest.

From out of the woods behind Quixotic, a cloaked figure emerged. He walked over to Jaeger's body and examined it, verifying the leader's death. He made his way over to the bush where Jaeger threw the dagger, and after shuffling through the foliage for a few seconds, found it.

He examined the blade. It was scuffed from Jaeger's sword, and it bore Quixotic's initials on the hilt. Nachbar smiled.

"Ah, my pupil, you have done well."

He shoved the dagger into his cloak and disappeared into the night.


	9. Chapter 9

Celtic's camp was abuzz with hearty discussion and lively chatter, celebrating their decisive victory and the devastating defeat they forced upon Jaeger's forces. A few were standing over the grave pit, silently shedding a tear or two while they watched as their friends, kinsmen and comrades were offered their last rites and laid in the cremation pit. Across from them, closer to the city, a larger pit had formed, and the bodies of the Bumblebee soldiers found on the field were hauled to the edge and unceremoniously thrown in. Celtic watched from a hill overlooking the plateau, silently contemplating the weight of his losses. From the woods and the city, his Council emerged, with grim faces and stolid expressions aplenty.

"What were our losses?" Samurai asked. He turned to the pit where their soldiers were being laid to rest. He sighed mournfully, and turned back to Celtic.

"We lost some good men," Celtic said. "But we dealt a decisive blow to our enemies. Maker?" He turned to his artificer, who had a shameful glint in her eye. He frowned.

"Were you able to complete your objective?" The king raised an eyebrow, disappointed by her reluctance to respond. She laughed awkwardly, and avoided eye contact.

"I was not, my lord. He had experienced men fighting with him. A Rosian soldier, and a mercenary. They drove me back before I could kill him."

Celtic grumbled, dissatisfied. "Though your failure is disappointing, it is not inexcusable. We have achieved a far greater victory today. Even if Kuchen yet lives, his forces have been decimated. It will be some time before he recovers. Greatness, how did your assault fare?"

Greatness failed to respond, locked securely in a trance. Inferno edged closer to him and tapped him on the shoulder, awakening him from his stupor and snapping him to attention.

"The assault went swimmingly, my liege. But while I was leading it, I met someone. Someone I've met before…" He trailed off, returning to his stupor.

"Right. Chaos, I would ask you and the others how your operation went, but the fact that we are not actively fighting the Renora soldiers speaks for itself." He looked around, searching for his remaining lieutenant. "Where's Peter?" He turned back to his Council. "Have any of you seen Peter?"

Celtic suddenly noticed Jokey, who, like Greatness, seemed to be in a reverie, staring out at the Renora walls. The king cocked his head and gestured towards Jokey. Chaos quickly advanced to the King's side and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"While we were in the castle, Jokey had a…confrontation with his mother. You see, she was the one who led Jaeger and the Bumblebee remnant. I had her escorted to the dungeon to await her punishment once the battle was over." He paused, gesturing towards his friend.

Yukon chimed in. "We have no real use for her. I say let Jokey have his way and be done with it." Celtic nodded, walking forward and gently awakening his enforcer from his daze.

"My friend, we both know what you think of your mother. Whatever decision you make, we're with you."

Jokey nodded dreamily and began descending the hill to where his mother was being kept under armed guard. As he walked towards her, he became focused and adrenaline began pumping through his veins. The assassin, with determination, shoved Zentics aside and approached his mother.

"Well, look who decided to join-" His mother's snarky comment was cut off as Jokey suddenly backhanded her, drawing blood and a look of utter contempt from the queen.

"Silence." Jokey's voice was steel, hard and unwavering. Herzlosa licked the blood off her teeth before smiling a wicked, wicked smile.

"No."

Jokey did not react. He stood there, staring at his mother. Around them, the soldiers had become silent, turning their attention to the scene unfolding before them. Finally, Jokey took a step forward, ever so carefully. Then another. Then another. He was agonizingly slow. The queen's formerly fiery temperament cooled as she gradually lost her composure. Soon, Jokey stood in front of his mother, looking down on her, the only emotion in his eyes unparalleled disdain. He gently brushed his hand across his mother's neck, as a cat toying with its prey before striking. Herzlosa's conviction suddenly returned, and she spat on her son, who turned his head and stood up to wipe it away. She sneered at him hatefully, and bared her teeth.

"You MONGREL! I should have killed you long ago, you disgusting traitor. The day you were born, I saw something in your eye. I saw a spark, a glimmer of an inner evil. I told your father, we should give him away. Something's not right about that boy. But he insisted."

Jokey turned back to face his mother, a deep anger welling within him, threatening to burst forward. He restrained himself, casting only a cool glance in her direction.

"And look where it got him. I tried to tell him. He wouldn't listen. 'Oh, Herzlosa. We can fix him. If we try a little more, if we give him another chance, he'll change. He was in denial. I wasn't. I had given up on you long ago."

"Perhaps if you really TRIED, you'd have the son you wanted." The assassin was barely able to restrain himself and contain his anger. "If you actually cared to stick around, instead of carousing about with other men and gold digging with the higher nobles, I would have changed."

"IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT I DID!" Herzlosa, absolutely livid, shrieked in unbarred fury. Zentics and the Council, who had approached the scene, recoiled in surprise. "What you did, that's all that matters. Your dreaded machine, that horrible thing, that was the final straw. I remember it all too vividly. I walked into our home. I set down my things. I heard arguing coming from downstairs. 'Jokey, my boy, don't do this. This is wrong, this is sick!' You never did listen to your sentimental fool of a father. You kept on fiddling with it. 'No father! See, father! Watch, and you'll see what these machines can really do!' And then it went up in flames. You. Your father. The house. I barely escaped. You did too. Your father didn't." She scowled, and with a look of total, unrestrained hatred, stared her son straight in the eye.

"It should have been you."

Jokey howled in total, unadulterated wrath. He charged Herzlosa, wrapping his cold, metal hands around her throat as he lost all control of himself. The assassin throttled her violently as Zentics tried to step in.

"Jokey! Stop this at once!" He stormed forwards, only to be halted by Greatness and Yukon.

Greatness grumbled intimidatingly. "I would highly suggest you not do that." He lifted his blade and angled it at Zentics, who stepped back, flustered.

"But that's my wife!" He stammered, struggling to spit the words out. Yukon laughed darkly before unbuckling his flail from his belt. "You're the king of Renora, Zentics. You'll find another." He sneered callously, a thick air of condescension almost smothering those present. Zentics swallowed and reluctantly stepped back, and the indignation in his wife's eyes suddenly turned to fear. "You hear that, mother? No one is going to save you!" Jokey's hands tightened, causing his mother to weakly grab his arms in a vain effort to free herself. He exhaled, slightly calming himself, before turning back toward Herzlosa.

"Beg me. Beg me for mercy."

With a look of indignation, she looked Jokey in the eye and mouthed her final word:

"No."

Jokey screamed in utter hatred, his scream piercing the ears of all those present. His hands tightened, and with one final effort, cast his mother into the cremation pit.

Herzlosa shrieked as the flames around her consumed her, and all the soldiers around them stepped back in fear, and the anticipation they might be next. Jokey stood motionlessly in front of the fire, watching as his mother's form dissolved into ash, and listening as the sickening cracks and pops of melting bone and flesh were consumed by the sounds of the flames. For a moment, the world stood still, and every man present stared at the pit as if it were some unholy portal to Hell, as if demons of every sort were going to burst forth at any second.

Jokey finally moved, turning around and passing through the camp, ignoring the looks of dread all the men present gave him. Inferno, nauseated to his core by the display, turned to an equally horrified Celtic, who was staring blankly at the flames.

"That was NOT necessary."

Chaos too, turned to face his liege. "I'm afraid I'm inclined to agree with Inferno. That was totally unnecessary, and who knows what it'll do to morale?"

Celtic waved him aside. "This was Jokey's decision, not ours. Besides, she was a traitor. An example needed to be made."

"But-" Chaos tried to get another word in, but a cold glance from Celtic silenced him immediately.

"My liege." Nachbar's voice drew their attention away from the uncomfortable confrontation and onto him. "I return with good news."

"Thank you, Peter," Celtic said. "Do tell, what is this good news of yours?" Nachbar removed a large dagger from his robes. It was bloodstained, and scratches unique to Jaeger's weapon crisscrossed it sloppily. The spymaster grinned.

"Jaeger is no more."

"Ah, isn't that good to know." Celtic cast a disdainful glance at Maker, who sheepishly turned away. "Tell me, how did you do it?"

"It wasn't I who carried out the deed. It was my agent, Quixotic." He showed the hilt to Celtic. On it were Quixotic's initials, delicately imprinted into the foundation: Q.Q. Celtic smiled.

"Can this Quixotic continue undermining our enemies?

"Yes, but not for much longer. I've been manipulating him through trickery and deceit. Soon he'll get suspicious and realize my motives, but until then, he's of great use to us."

"Fantastic. My council, tell the men to set up camp out here. We'll rest tomorrow. The day after that, we resume our campaign."

The Council, save for Inferno, Samurai and Chaos, murmured in assent and departed. Inferno and Samurai continued to stare at the cremation pit, watching as the flames danced in the dark of night. Chaos placed a hand on Inferno's shoulder, lingering only for a second, and then walked off after Celtic. Inferno turned to Samurai.

"Samurai, are you loyal to me?"

He nodded. "Yes, my liege. To you, and only you."

Inferno sighed. "Good."

"Because the minute we have a chance, we are burning our deal with this devil."

Samurai nodded in agreement, and they walked off into the darkness.

* * *

Quixotic could walk no longer. He trudged through the wilderness, hoping that someone, anyone, would find him. Well, almost anyone.

In the distance, he saw a flicker of light, darting incessantly about and illuminating the pitch black of the night. Fire.

And where there's fire, there's people.

He managed to muster up what remained of his strength and segued gradually into a sprint as he ran toward the flame. At last, he reached the edge of the forest and broke through the tree line, finding himself in a sparsely populated camp. The officers were in an argument, and their soldiers were trudging listlessly through the mud. One of them noticed Quixotic's presence and squinted at him, trying to figure out who he was.

"Hey? Who are you?"

Quixotic managed to take a few small steps towards the soldier before dropping to his knees. He scanned the faces around him, hoping that he could find a familiar one among them. At last, some stood out to him.

Gwydion, Austin and Nitesco.

He raised his arm halfheartedly, and tried to form words. Gwydion, seeing this, pushed through the crowd and helped Quixotic up, dragging him over to a log surrounding the large campfire.

"It's alright, everyone. He's with us."

"Then why's he got Jaeger's sword?" A small voice piped up from the middle of the crowd. Many of the men squinted at the spy, scrutinizing him, and upon seeing Jaeger's sword immediately shifted into a defensive position, not trusting the newcomer. Austin turned to face him, a quizzical look on his face. Quixotic sighed.

"Some of Celtic's men caught up with us. He…did not survive the encounter."

The soldiers collectively looked around, dazed. The fact that their leader, a man whose presence had been taken for granted, wasn't there anymore was earth-shattering for them. The men looked around dejectedly, before one brave infantryman stepped forward and voiced the concern that was passing through everybody's minds.

"Who will lead us now?"

Everybody froze. From out of the crowd, one man stepped forward.

"I will. I am Colonel Novem, of the 1st Bumblebee Cavalry Regiment. It was I who ordered the counterattack on Celtic the night our capital was sieged, a feat which allowed many men here to escape their imminent deaths. I should lead us!"

The cavalrymen, almost on cue, cheered loudly. Some of the infantrymen joined in cheering, before another man stepped forward from the crowd, stood on a tree stump, and addressed the crowd.

"I should be the one to lead us! MY name is Colonel Blake, and I am a representative of the infantrymen. I have led in the service of Bumblebee for over forty years, and I have coordinated countless victories in its name. This victory that Novem cites was the reckless act of an inexperienced commander who earned his place through nepotism. This man's counterattack cost countless men. Do you want him to lead us, or me?"

A larger portion of the soldiers cheered, leaving Novem red-faced with fury. Yet another man stepped forward, wearing an almost pristine uniform.

"I am Major Rin. I too, have served Bumblebee for many years, nineteen, to be exact. I was Jaeger's personal strategist and advisor, and I have led not just him, but all of you to victory through these many years. I should be the leader!"

Almost immediately, the camp erupted in cheers and cries, as their interests turned from supporting their chosen candidates to arguing with each other. Austin and Gwydion sighed in contempt. Quixotic turned to Nitesco, and noticed a strange glint in his unusually stern eyes. Nitesco growled and began walking toward the stump which Blake stood upon. He shoved him to the ground, suppressing a smirk as he faceplanted in the mud, and stood on the stump.

"HEY!"

The soldiers, who had been on the cusp of coming to blows, abruptly stopped and turned to the commoner who stood, steel-faced, upon the stump. They were awed to silence by this man's unfettered boldness, and they remained respectfully attentive.

Austin cleared his throat and stepped to Nitesco's side, concerned. "Nitesco. What are you doing?" Nitesco swallowed and continued surveying the crowd.

"Today, I killed a man."

A few of the cavalrymen looked at him quizzically, then laughed disdainfully. He paid them no heed.

"I've never taken a life before. I fought with you, yes. But I made an effort to never, never take a life." His voice quivered.

"That soldier had a name. A family. A life. And yet, he risked it all, to do what he felt was right."

The cavalrymen had, like the rest of the infantrymen, returned to a reverent silence. Nitesco choked back a tear.

"That man was willing to sacrifice his life for what he viewed as the greater good. He was willing to die for his country, for his beliefs. So what if he was on Celtic's side? So what if he fought against us? He is more deserving of our respect than anybody here, including me."

"He died for his beliefs. And here we are, squabbling over the broken pieces of an army, for nobody's sake but our own. Look at you." His melancholy turned to anger.

"LOOK AT YOU! YOU BASTARDS!" He inhaled deeply, and continued to speak.

"You've never fought. Not a single one of the men who thinks they should be Jaeger's successor was on that battlefield. Jaeger would be ashamed of you. These men, your brothers and sisters, fought and died. And you sit idly in the shadows and only step out to take the credit."

"That man, the man that I… killed, he was a better man than any of you." He thrust a finger apprehensively in the officer's directions, before extending an open hand to the soldiers.

"But you. You men are the bravest, most honorable men I've ever had the privilege of fighting alongside. You were willing to follow your leader into certain death, for no other reason than it was asked of you. You were willing, just like that man, to sacrifice everything for what you thought was right."

He paused. The men leaned forward in anticipation, hanging on every word.

"I would be honored to fight alongside you. Each of the men behind me, Austin, Gwydion, Quixotic, are as proud of you as I am. They feel the same way. They have fought as long and hard as all of you. It would be my, no, our privilege to lead you men into battle. If you would have me, I would be your commander." The camp was dead silent for a second. Nitesco felt a crushing embarrassment, and his face fell involuntarily when the silence continued.

"I would be honored to serve under you."

A single man stepped forward; the portly messenger sent from Renora. He produced a dagger, and taking it, kneeled and offered it up to Nitesco as a sign of fealty.

The soldier next to him followed suit, kneeling and offering his blade up to Nitesco. Then another, and another, and another, until all but the three candidates were kneeling before their new commander. Seeing that their chances of taking command were scattered, the officers begrudgingly kneeled before him.

"One question, sir?" The messenger spoke up. "Since Jaeger is dead, we no longer serve Bumblebee. What will we be called now?"

Nitesco turned to Austin, who was at his side. "Austin, what is the name of the forest we are in?"

Austin stroked his chin contemplatively. "I believe it is called the Rowj forest, commander." He grinned triumphantly.

"Then the Rowj league is what we shall be called. And Gwydion?" Gwydion turned to Nitesco eagerly.

"What was the name of the mercenary company you were a part of?"

"The Fallen Angels, sir."

Nitesco laughed. "I just had a clever idea. The four of us, we shall be called the Angelic, but spelled A-N-G-Q. Clever, no?"

He laughed jovially and faced the crowd. The messenger once again spoke up.

"Three cheers for ANGQ!"

The camp erupted in cheers. Nitesco opened his arms and basked in the glory before turning to his fellows.

"Rest up, my friends. Tomorrow we plan our attack." Gwydion and Austin smiled and walked over to the men, who were cheering and laughing. Quixotic remained behind, looking melancholy. Nitesco rested a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, you did all you could." He sighed.

"Jaeger would be proud of you."

Quixotic shrugged. "I hope so. I'm heading to bed." Nitesco gave him a small salute before returning to bathing in the radiant cheering of his men.

Quixotic entered the tent, making sure the flaps were secured behind him. Making sure no one was about, he set Jaeger's sword on the ground and stared at it dejectedly for a minute.

As the whole camp cheered outside, Quixotic sat down and cried.


	10. Chapter 10

Quixotic spent the next few weeks mulling over his moral dilemma, night after night. Through the day, he would put on a mask of false calmness and retain his wit, spewing jokes and one-liners in equal measure to suppress the ever-present sense of guilt residing deep in his gut.

At night, he would surrender the façade and lay down, blankly looking at the wall and failing to sleep. He would stare into the blackness, perhaps close his eyes, and rehearse the argument he would have with himself every night before drifting into a deep slumber.

Jaeger was guilty. He was plotting against us. That's why the attack went so badly.

If he was guilty, then why do you feel guilty? After all, Nachbar told you to trust your instincts.

Nachbar isn't always right. I have to trust myself before anyone else.

But what if Nachbar was deceiving you?

Quixotic's eyes shot open, and he breathed heavily. His imaginary debate had never taken a turn that drastic before. He had never questioned Nachbar before, he wasn't expected to or supposed to. He sat up dreamily, trying to process this new, perhaps obvious in retrospect, stream of thought.

But why would he do that? Why would he join Celtic? There's nothing for him to gain there.

How do you know that? How do you know Nachbar's motivations? Have you ever?

He ran an underground smuggling ring. Why would he sign on with a staunchly legalist king?

Quixotic's mind was abuzz with multiple explanations, each one more comforting and yet, less assuring than the last. He stood up, shambled over to the entrance of the tent and fumbled through. Behind him, he heard Gwydion stir; he had always been a light sleeper.

He gave him no heed, and leaned against a tree, hoping the crisp night air would provide a solution to his quandary. He sat on a nearby stump and let his thoughts run free.

Perhaps Celtic would turn a blind eye. Or perhaps he serves a grander purpose.

A smuggler? Grander purpose? Now you're stretching it.

Think about it. Why would Nachbar suddenly involve himself in Subreddit politics?

Quixotic pondered these thoughts for a short while, before he had an unexpectedly vivid flashback to the night the capital was attacked.

I gave him the map of Bumblebee defenses.

Yes, that's right! Why would he have needed that?

The spy desperately searched his mind for an explanation.

He runs a smuggling ring. He needed a map of defenses to know where to get the goods into the city.

No, no! He needed them so Celtic would know where to attack!

Why would Celtic, who is armed with cannons and siege weapons, need a map of the defenses?

His doubt suddenly diminished, and the voice of his conscience suddenly sputtered and became markedly softer.

So he would know which area was weakest!

His conscience fought back, but vainly. It knew the battle was lost.

No. Nachbar was performing his regular operations. Celtic attacked, not at the weakest area, but at the most heavily defended. It makes no sense.

Then why is Nachbar suddenly involving himself in these matters?

Celtic would not tolerate his smuggling ring. He uses his scouts to undermine Celtic so his business will be safe.

The voice dimmed and fell silent. Quixotic breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that his self-imposed guilt would be somewhat, albeit not totally, diminished. He laughed quietly, victoriously, and made his way back to the tent. A rustling inside alerted him; Gwydion poked his head out and stared quizzically at the agent.

"What the hell are you doing up at this hour?"

Quixotic shrugged. "I was getting a bit of fresh air." Gwydion looked at him strangely again.

"Couldn't sleep."

Gwydion nodded tiredly and returned to the tent, beckoning for Quixotic to follow. He did so gladly, laying down, sandwiched between the two blankets he called a bed, and fell asleep.

* * *

The cold winter winds of Schneekos whipped soft bits of frost and slush, fallen the night before, against Nitesco's unprotected cheeks. He pulled out a skillfully knitted scarf, made out of the fabric of a tent which had been rendered unusable by a heavy tree branch, and wrapped it around his jaw. Behind him, his mentor and co-commander Austin followed, hands folded behind his back in a sophisticated way that belied his discomfort in the brisk weather and his jealousy of Nitesco's well-crafted scarf.

Nitesco pushed the flap of his partner's tent open, expecting Quixotic and Gwydion to still be in the grips of sleep. Instead, Gwydion was kneeling over a strange mechanism, and Quixotic was reclining on his side, watching as Gwydion's hands artfully tapped and clicked, pushed and prodded, performing a strange dance of ingenuity and innovation. At last, he raised the curious-looking creation in the air with the love and adoration that a parent might have holding his child.

"Success!" Gwydion shouted. His voice carried a mix of the pride a scientist feels after completing a research project years in the making, and the excitement of a child who received exactly what they wanted for Yurimas.

Austin cocked his head, confused, while Nitesco, startled by Gwydion's sudden shouting, jumped up in surprise before catching his breath.

"What's going on?" asked the young man, deeply intrigued.

Gwydion grinned like a maniac. "I've created a weapon fitting of the prestige of our nation. This is a device that will strike fear into the hearts of our enemies. Behold!" With both hands, he held his creation in front of him. While it was an unfamiliar sight at the time, future generations would easily be able to recognize the device.

"Is that what I think it is?" asked Austin.

Gwydion nodded with an unhealthy amount of excitement.

"But I thought the funding for that project was cut years ago!"

"Well, that's probably why it took me so long to finish," said Gwydion. "But at long last, it's done. My friends, I've finally created…" he paused for dramatic effect.

"…a hand cannon."

Nitesco gasped. Austin got a wide grin of his own. Quixotic looked at the others with confusion. He asked the obvious question.

"What's a hand cannon?"

Nitesco answered, still staring at the device. "It's an idea researchers and inventors in Guns and Roses began throwing around a decade ago. A gunpowder-based weapon that could be carried around by one person and that could fire small lethal projectiles. Cannons can destroy walls. A hand cannon could destroy a person. But I had no idea that a hand cannon project had received funding from the government."

"It did for a time," said Austin. "But the higher-ups quickly lost patience and decided to invest the state's money elsewhere when those working on the research failed to produce results. For the record, Gwydion," he added, "I was in favor of continuing support for the project."

"Wait," Nitesco interjected, cutting off the positively giddy blacksmith. "You were part of the Guns N' Roses government?"

Austin waved him off gently. "A story for another time. I'm curious as to how Gwydion acquired the schematics for it."

"After Jaeger died, I went through his belongings." Nitesco gave Gwydion a disgusted look before he raised a hand to explain himself.

"I wanted to see if he had anything that could help us plan our battles. What I found was even better: the original schematics for the hand cannon! I was so excited!" He paused for a second.

"I never really questioned how they got there, though." Gwydion furrowed his brow contemplatively as Austin stifled a cough and looked around the room innocently.

"It was slow going, but now, at long last, it's done. It's done!" Gwydion was struggling to hold back tears.

"So how powerful is it?" asked Quixotic. He licked his lips, looking at the gun now with a sort of hunger—what might be described as an appetite for power.

Gwydion could hardly prevent pride from entering his voice. "By my estimates, this baby should take anywhere between ten to twenty seconds to load, and should be lethal at a range of thirty meters. Ten, through thicker armor. Therefore, it's an excellent weapon for taking down a single opponent at a safe distance. There are downsides, though. The hand cannon requires specially crafted ammunition and is made of some rare materials, both of which take significant time and skill to forge."

"So," said Austin, "We can't mass produce these for all of the soldiers in our army."

"In fact," said Gwydion, "This is the only one I'll be able to make for the foreseeable future, given our various shortages in supply. For now, this achievement won't have a very large impact."

Quixotic put on a facial expression which he'd found through experience was very effective for begging. "Gwydion, I understand this weapon is a brilliant achievement. I would be honored if you would allow me to be the first to fire—"

"NO, SHE'S MINE!" Gwydion exclaimed, shocking the rest of the group. "I mean," he cleared his throat. "It's mine. I crafted it, I will be the first to use it. Besides, its durability is limited; I may only be able to fire it a few times before it breaks. But don't worry, I'll be sure to put it to good use while it still works." Gwydion looked at the hand cannon wistfully, as though he was saddened by the weapon's fate to ultimately be broken.

"Well, I'm happy for you," said Nitesco. "I think you've just done something amazing. You should be proud!"

"Just be careful with that thing," Austin warned. "I don't want the hand cannon's first kill to be friendly fire."

Gwydion nodded. "Don't worry. I'm always careful. Anyway, that's all I have to show you. You all can go back about your business now."

Taking the hint, the group left one by one. Quixotic was the last to exit. He didn't turn all the way to look, but as left he was sure he saw out of the corner of his eye Gwydion giving the hand cannon a passionate kiss.

Ignoring the questionable display, Quixotic followed the other two to a small ledge overseeing the camp, which was currently alive with (sluggish) activity as the soldiers drearily went about their morning routines.

"Can I have your attention?" Nitesco raised his voice, loud enough for everybody to hear over the ever-fiercening winds blistering their exposed skin.

"The other officers and I have been having discussions about where we should go from here. Admittedly, the situation looks dire."

"You think?" A dry voice cried out from the back, prompting a few weary chuckles before they faded back into the wind. Nitesco sighed and continued with his speech as if nothing had happened.

"Right now, we are on the border of Greek Fire and Pyrruby. These nations, along with some others in the Juniperan Quarter of the Subreddit, are actively resisting Celtic's regime. These men are brave and valiant, and they are not alone. Rubians, Heroans, Villainians, all are resisting this vile insurrection. But they are isolated pockets of resistance, discouraged by Celtic's string of victories, and without us, will inevitably surrender or be violently crushed."

Austin noticed a movement on a small, rocky hill overlooking the encampment. He turned his attention towards it; upon closer inspection, it proved to be the silhouette of a man. The veteran watched as it carefully moved from out behind a rock to a small patch of shrubs, trying to gain a better vantage point. He walked away from the other two, who seemed not to notice.

"We cannot allow these brave crusaders to die fruitlessly. We must take the fight to Celtic, put him on the defensive, and unite these shattered states into a single body of resistance. But there is one obstacle that stands in our way: the blockade."

Austin stalked around the tents, making his way out of the camp and slowly creeping up the hill. The man became clearer now, his silhouette became clearly defined. He wore the colors of Arkos and seemed to be enthralled by Nitesco's speech. A bit too enthralled, as he failed to notice that he too, was being watched.

"All four of the major waterways are routinely patrolled by Arkosian ships: The Confirmed River to the north, the Sunken to the east, the Crack to the south, and the Heretical Inlet to the west. Celtic's navy is preventing us from sending each other aid, but there is a solution."

"They converge at the Spreadsheet Confluence, which just so happens to be right by the largest Arkos military camp in their nation. If we attack there, we can cripple their operations, break the blockade, and galvanize the rest of the Subreddit."

Austin slithered through the slush-topped trees and the brown, barren bushes, making his way towards the watcher. As he got closer, he scrutinized the man. He was more of a boy, actually, couldn't be more than seventeen or eighteen years. His hair was a dirty blond, mangled mop, tendrils freely stretching out from his head like the roots of a tree. He had a few scars on his cheek; he had already seen action. Down below, Nitesco's voice rose almost to a scream, loud enough Austin could hear as if he were right next to him.

"I need a few of you for messengers. You will travel to the surrounding nations, spread the message, enlist their help. When our league is strong enough, we will strike at Celtic, and unite against him! We will defeat him, and his vile insurrection, I know we will! Who's with me?"

The men raised their fists enthusiastically, cheering loudly, as if they had already won the battle. The boy, content with what he had heard, turned around to flee the scene. Unfortunately for him, Austin had crept up behind him. They locked eyes.

"Hey there, kid. How's it going?" The veteran gave a wry smirk.

The boy's hand flew to his sword. Too late.

The last thing he saw was an old man's fist.

* * *

Quixotic was stretched out on a straw mat in the commander's tent, watching Nitesco as he wrote the letters that were to be sent out, and Gwydion as he continued to tirelessly tinker with his hand cannon. He cracked his neck and stood up.

Austin, the old codger, pulled a tent flap open and poked his head through, grinning so fiercely Quixotic wondered if his mind had finally succumbed to dementia.

"I have a surprise for you…" He said, in a strangely singsong fashion.

"What now?" Nitesco, slightly annoyed, looked up from his portable desk, more of a bench, really, and glared at his mentor. The old man frowned and shoved the Arkosian agent into the tent, stifling a snicker as he landed painfully on the floor.

"I found him spying on your speech, up on the hill over there. He was listening to your plans. He's only a child, I doubt he's got any real information on him. What do we do with him?"

Gwydion set his masterpiece down and inspected the soldier further. Fear was written all across the boy's countenance, and he was holding back tears, but just barely. He shifted into a kneeling position and spoke.

"My name's Luke, and I work for Celtic. That's all you'll get out of me." He tried to sound defiant, but instead came off as a timid tiger. Quixotic groaned and sat up.

"Fantastic. Now we know his name." He cleared his throat, looking the child up and down, watching him vainly try to squirm out of the inescapable knots Austin had crafted for him.

Suddenly, he lunged for Jaeger's sword, which was sitting on the ground next to Nitesco's intricately made scarf, and brought it up to the boy's neck, making him shriek in terror.

"TELL US ALL YOU KNOW OR I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD, I WILL GUT YOU!" Quixotic howled at the boy, who suddenly shrank significantly. Gwydion stood up, hands outstretched, in an effort to calm his comrade down.

"Quixotic, my God! Calm down!" He made a move to push him back, but Austin blocked him.

"Hold on. He might have the right idea." Gwydion looked at him with disgust, while Luke began weeping.

"Please, please, don't kill me! I know nothing!"

"BULLSHIT!" The agent dug the sword into the underside of the frightened recruit's chin, drawing blood. Luke screamed, and Nitesco stood up.

"Quixotic! That's enough!" They both stayed motionless before Quixotic backed away reluctantly.

"You might want to speak quickly, son," Austin said, "before my compatriot starts removing your digits." Quixotic brandished the blade threateningly, and Austin laid a hand on Luke's shoulder.

"Austin, what the hell? We're not torturers!" The veteran turned and glowered at him.

"That's what you think."

The scout straightened his posture, ready to talk.

"I'll talk! I'll talk!" He took a few deep breaths. "Please don't hurt me."

Nitesco kneeled in front of the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder. "How does Celtic know where we are?" He spoke softly, yet sternly.

The scout sniffled. "He doesn't. I was bringing a message from a small encampment nearby to Jaunrrha Citadel when I saw your camp. I decided to take a closer look, when the old man rendered me unconscious."

"What was the message?"

"I don't know. The envelope was sealed, I was told not to open it." Nitesco sighed. "Is that all you know?" Luke nodded emphatically. The leader beckoned for his friends to come closer to him, huddling together.

"What do we do with him?"

Quixotic shrugged. "Kill him." He said it loud enough that Luke turned his head to look at him.

Gwydion spoke up. "No. My father told me not to kill anybody that didn't need to die. He's just a child!"

"Well we can't let him go, can we?"

"We could bring him along. As a prisoner, I mean."

Austin interjected. "I have a better idea."

Suddenly and without warning, he leaned over, grabbed Jaeger's sword, and stabbed Luke in the shin, provoking a scream.

"There we go, problem solved."

"Austin!" Gwydion cried. "What the fuck?!"

The grizzled old man shrugged. "Well, he can't run to his superiors, but he isn't dead either." He set the sword down. "Isn't compromise grand?"

Nitesco grabbed a spare piece of gauze sitting on his chair and made a hasty tourniquet, before turning and glaring at his mentor.

"I suppose I'll tell the men to take down camp." He grabbed the letters off his desk before leaving the tent, leaving the four in an awkward silence.

"What should I do with him?" Quixotic asked.

"Tie him to the big oak next to your tent, and take his knapsack too. If he's got the skills to survive, he'll get the knots undone before the cold gets to him." He laughed darkly. "Or the wolves."

Quixotic dragged a now unconscious Luke outside, grabbing a fistful of rope as he did so. When the brawler was gone, the blacksmith gave the old man a hard shove.

"What the fuck? His odds of survival weren't great to begin with! That wasn't necessary."

Austin gritted his teeth. "He's our enemy, Gwydion. This is war. But since you're such a good Samaritan, why don't you go and tell Quixotic to let him go? I won't stop you."

He hesitated, drawing another dark chuckle from the veteran. "That's what I thought."

Austin quit the tent, leaving Gwydion alone. Silently, he mulled over the events that had just occurred before picking up his masterpiece, clipping it to his belt, and following Austin out into the snow.

That afternoon, the Rowj League dispatched their messengers and marched for their first, and final battle.


	11. Chapter 11

From the walls of the great city of Albus Rosa, Councilman Kosa Dominus watched as his doom walked, calm and serene, yet with hearts full of hatred and malice, towards his home. Their banners arced through the sky, the flags swaying in the wind. He knew his end was at hand.

The leaders of the odious insurrection emerged, proud, blinded and polluted by their own hubris. Kosa sneered, disgusted. "To whomever can hear me: I am Celtic, leader of the Insurrection and Wearer of the New Crown! Surrender, and you will be spared!"

A condescending laugh echoed down from the battlements.

"You think we will just hand our city over to the likes of a butcher like you? White Rose is strong. White Rose is powerful. We will not simply raise the white flag. We will fight until the end!" He thrust a fist in the air, prompting his soldiers to follow suit, crying out bravely.

Inferno sighed. "My good sir, there's no need for bloodshed. If you surrender now, we can avoid a violent outcome. Think of how many lives you can spare! All you have to do is surrender." Kosa laughed again. "Most of the civilians have been evacuated from the city. Those who remain are more than willing to die for their homeland. You will have to kill every last one of us if you wish to succeed."

Vulpix, now, stepped forward. "We can arrange a peace deal. We can give you representation in our new Assembly and allow you and your people to live to see another day in exchange for limits imposed on your military and yearly tribute. Plus, you will be remembered as the man who saved not only his city, but his country as well. And…"

The councilman stroked his chin and spoke, cutting Vulpix off. "All fair points. But I want something more: I want the White Rose council to remain autonomous. We want our freedom."

Vulpix laughed slightly, trying to suppress his nervousness.

"I'm afraid you didn't let me finish, dear sir. The last term of our agreement: you pay full reparations for the destruction and the pain you have inflicted on the people of Emberald."

The councilman sniggered. "What, you mean that forsaken shithole on the edge of Villainia? No, I did what was ordered of me. I will neither apologize nor compensate that bizarre zealot you put in charge."

Yukon stepped forward, eyes blazing with a fury the likes of which few had ever seen.

"What you did to my nation all those years ago cannot be forgiven. You burned my city, Kosa. My home! Bumblebee has paid. Zentics has paid. Now you too, pay the price."

Inferno glared at him.

"Yukon. What are you doing?!" The priest gave him no heed.

"Kosa, we are altering the deal: you and your city will surrender unconditionally. You will submit to each and every edict our Council sees fit to set upon you. In exchange for what I consider to be a very merciful sentence, you get to live. Sound fair?"

Kosa stood still for a few seconds, before suddenly erupting in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. He bent over the wall, struggling to keep himself upright, drawing out the act far longer than was necessary. At last, he finished, and assumed a valiant pose as he stared down his verbal assailant.

"White Rose is a nation of strong, proud people. We will never submit. We will never give up. We will remain free, or we will die. No crazed, misguided lunatic in an stupid mask can change that!"

He raised his fist high in the air, and the warriors lined up behind him mirrored him, bellowing another war cry.

Greatness leaned into Celtic's ear, a small, smug smile imprinted on his face.

"I told you it would come to this." Celtic sighed and nodded resignedly.

Kosa retreated down the walls as the White Rosian soldiers readied arrows. They fired off a volley, causing Celtic and the others to duck and fall back behind the shields of their soldiers.

Yukon, however, remained at the front, readying his shield and beckoning to the artillery massed behind him to fire. The shots blasted through the walls of the city, and they crumbled down along with all the soldiers stationed on them. Yukon pointed his sword at the breach in the defenses, barking orders as his men funneled through:

"Kill them all! Take no prisoners! Show no mercy!"

The artillery blasted through another section of the city's massive walls, prompting the warriors there to begin their advance. Celtic, Greatness and Vulpix broke off and followed their respective legions into the fray while Maker and Jokey ran off, presumably to sow chaos behind enemy lines. Inferno and Shippo remained, watching as White Rose put up one last, desperate fight.

"Shall we?" Shippo asked reluctantly.

Inferno shook his head. "I will not be party to this. Go and inform the soldiers they are not to enter the city." Shippo nodded and rode off to inform the soldiers.

Inferno began a dialogue with himself.

Is this the cost of power? Is this what my ambition has begot?

This is war. There will always be casualties.

But so many? And for what? Yukon's revenge?

It doesn't matter. You enabled this. You have to see it through.

Otherwise every man who has died thus far will have died in vain.

The Crosshares king sighed, wracked with guilt and self-loathing.

His bodyguard advanced to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"My liege, it is done."

Inferno merely nodded in assent. Through the thin slits of his visor, Shippo could see his liege, his friend, was crying.

"Inferno…"

"No. I need no words of comfort. Only a talk with Celtic." He inhaled, shrugging off his melancholy composure. "This will not happen again. I swear it."

They stood in silence and watched as the great city of Albus Rosa was slowly enveloped by flames.

* * *

The Crosshares king, after all was said and done, decided to walk through the smoldering remains of the city. That was a mistake.

The streets were slick with blood, and bodies were strewn about the streets; some were Celtic's, but most were White Rosian soldiers who were either too proud or too naïve to leave their city when they had the chance. Inferno shook his head, advancing past the burnt and crumbling remains of market stalls and houses. As he found the main road, he saw that the volume of the bodies had increased, most likely the result of one monumental, yet failed attempt at a counterattack to prevent Celtic from taking the citadel that rested at the heart of the city. Fools. Why couldn't they see the futility of their actions?

Inferno arrived at the front door of the building, examining it. The walls were battered, and the doors were slightly ajar. Of course, they had held out to the end.

He opened the door, his eyes adjusting slowly to the lack of light in the unusually dark chamber. As he walked forward, he stumbled over something, but quickly recovered. He leaned over to discover what it was; upon closer inspection, he found it was a body. An Emberald body, to be exact.

"Take the bodies and bring them to the pits in the courtyard. Be wary; there might still be some survivors hiding in the basements." Yukon and two of his men were walking through the castle when the Crosshares king caught their attention.

"Well, someone's a bit late to the party." Yukon slowly paced over to Inferno, disappointment radiating from him. "Why didn't you join in the fight, my friend?" Inferno shifted slightly, uneased, before standing tall and growling his reply.

"I will not be party to the deaths of innocents."

Yukon cocked his head, carefully considering his reply. Instead of shouting or responding with a smarmy, sarcastic remark, he merely beckoned for Inferno to follow him.

They walked through the winding halls of the citadel, taking two, three turns before finally arriving at a spot Yukon was confident was invulnerable to eavesdropping. He closed the door behind him, and with a flamboyant gesture, relieved himself of his mask. Beneath his mask was the face of a younger man, about thirty years old, but burned into it were runes and symbols whose meaning Inferno was oblivious to. Nearly every patch of skin was graced by another indecipherable symbol, each one different than the last. The high priest smirked.

"You like what you see?" He chuckled darkly, making Inferno uncomfortable.

"What happened?" Inferno cautiously asked the obvious question.

The priest laughed again. "You see, my good man, I owe this to my old government. I was born to a modest family: a diplomat father, a military mother. From a young age, they taught me their talents: administration, fighting, strategizing, the ways of intrigue. I was destined to better my nation."

"But then our nation was dragged into the Third Shipping War, and my peaceful existence changed. Emberald elected to economically support the New Revolutionary League, and we paid a heavy price. Bumblebee condemned us and spearheaded a campaign into our territory. Our coward king submitted to the peace deal our dear friend Zentics wrote for us, and Emberald was divided between Bumblebee, White Rose, Renora. They left us the barren hills to the northeast, along with a single city. But they weren't done. Oh no. White Rose, led by that vile scoundrel Kosa, came to my home town to drive out the remaining Emberaldians onto the territory they gave us. We refused to leave."

He paused, choking on his anger. "Nearly every man, woman and child was murdered that night. And do you know what they did? They looted what was left and dumped the corpses in the river." Inferno placed a hand on his shoulder and Yukon sat down, still seething at the memory.

"My parents, my friends and my lover all died that night. I am, as you know, susceptible to the allure of alcohol, and I drank to soothe my sorrows. One night, I got very drunk, and I started preaching criticisms of the current government to all that would hear, telling off the King, the clergy, the war that we had been drawn into. Criticizing the government was a crime as it was, but it was what I did next that led to my current state.

"Some of the barmen followed behind me. We went out into the streets, marching towards our citadel, and angry, dissatisfied peasants began marching with us. Soon enough, half the damn city was behind me, making our way to the citadel. We stood outside the gates, screaming and rioting. They called in the guardsmen, and it was over within an hour.

"I was charged with inciting rebellion, but thanks to my parent's influence, I was given a punishment known as the Smoldering in lieu of a death sentence. It is a terrible trial. Those unlucky souls who do survive are shunned by society for the scars they are forced to bear."

Inferno raised a hand, but Yukon cut him off, predicting his query.

"In the Smoldering, the victim is forced to drink a goblet of poison. Then, it begins. For three days, we wallow in our own misery, almost completely paralyzed, throwing up and lying in our own excrement, while the guards outside pelt you with rocks. This is supposedly to sate the anger of the Jade Goddess.

"For the next three days, we are tied to a ceremonial altar, and verses from the holy book, in the old language, are seared into our flesh, letter by letter. For three whole days, we are denied sleep, food and rest, and are given only the barest rations of water to sustain ourselves. Then, on the seventh day, we are released into the deadly wilderness, shunned by society." He grabbed the mask from off the desk, placing it back on his face.

"Now do you understand?"

Inferno nodded, feeling guilty, but now understanding Yukon's wrath.

"What did you do? With the council, I mean?"

He couldn't see it, but Inferno knew the priest was smiling under his mask.

"One of the fuckers jumped from the citadel roof to avoid capture. As if we were going to let any of them live. Five of them tried to flee the city, but my forces killed four of them and Maker picked off one that managed to get outside the city. As for Kosa and the other two, Jokey, Celtic and I made quick work of them." He smiled again.

"I buried my flail between his shoulder blades. I made sure he screamed."

He suddenly stood up, quite finished with the conversation.

"Well, I hope your curiosity is satisfied. If you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to." He opened the door and stepped out.

"Thank you, Yukon. It's been enlightening."

Yukon nodded. "Anything for an ally. It's been a pleasure."

As Yukon left, Samurai shuffled in behind him, taking a seat and crossing his legs. Inferno shut the door behind him, pulled up a chair opposite his bodyguard, and leaned over.

"I feel conflicted. All of these men have valid reasons to hate the Subreddit's leaders, and they seem to genuinely want to reform the system. At the same time, they seem to be too eager and too willing to let innocents die to achieve their goals. I don't know what to do." He leaned over, filled with melancholy.

Samurai waited a moment before folding his hands into a steeple and leaning back. At last, he spoke.

"Do you know how I met your father?"

Inferno shook his head. Despite their close relationship, he had always taken his bodyguard for granted, and felt guilty for not knowing.

"I'm afraid I don't."

Samurai nodded and proceeded to tell his tale.

"I was a young man, living in a rural province on the Crack River. The marshal of the province was a corrupt and brutal man, and one day he came to our village and told us to hand over half our month's spoils or face the consequences. We refused, because we desperately needed those supplies. So that night, he came in and burned the village down. I tried to stop it, but they chased me out of town, and put a bounty on my head so word wouldn't get back to the king of what happened there."

"While on the run, I fell in with a pack of thieves. I helped them with their activities, and they sheltered me from the law. One night, I told them my story, and promised them a large reward if we could expose the marshal. They agreed."

"We began chasing the marshal, attacking his camps, halting unjust executions, trying to draw him out and expose him. The men with me… it transformed them. It made them something more. The search for justice, the pursuit of retribution, it brought most of us together, and made us better men."

"Eventually, we found enough evidence to implicate the marshal in numerous misdeeds, and his reign of terror over the province was ended. Word of this reached the king, your father, and he summoned us to his court. He offered us positions as his personal law enforcers. Most of the group joined him and became the king's personal honor guard."

Inferno let the words sink in.

"And the men who didn't join?"

Samurai shook his head.

"We put them to the sword. After all we had been through together, they'd still rather be thieves than honorable men. We could not condone that."

The Crosshares king rested his head on his fist.

"Interesting. But what does this have to do with our current situation?"

"Sometimes we have to work with bad people to do a good thing. And who knows, they might change for the better."

"And if they don't?"

Samurai merely sighed. "I hope it doesn't come to that."

"I'm afraid that might not be so, my good friends."

A voice came out from behind a curtain alerted the pair to another presence in the room. Samurai drew his halberd and Inferno readied his rapier. The man emerged from the crimson curtains, revealing himself to be Nachbar.

Inferno breathed a sigh of relief. Samurai grunted.

"Don't you have anything better to do than stand around menacingly?"

Peter shrugged. "Yes, but I have something important to tell you."

"Spit it out then. Don't try my liege's patience."

Samurai's master waved a hand, gesturing for his bodyguard to stand down. The officer grumbled, but obeyed and put his weapon on the table. Nachbar chuckled and took a seat.

"Celtic and his other lieutenants are preparing contingencies against you." The pair remained expressionless, expecting Nachbar to elaborate.

"Tough crowd." He laughed to himself. "You see, Celtic fears your ambition and your power. It's no secret that Crosshares is one of the most influential nations in the Subreddit. Civil war would be disastrous for him, because he would not be able to win. He is too weak to lead this realm on his own. But you, you have the potential to be a driving force in the realm. Think of it. Imagine the future. Inferno CLXVII, remembered forever as the savior of the land, exalted among men. Tell me it doesn't tempt you." Inferno cocked his head, contemplating Peter's rhetoric. For a moment, the briefest of moments, it enveloped him, but he resisted. He stepped back.

"I cannot betray Celtic. My nation is thriving. I do not need to mire it in intrigue and war any more than I already have."

"But think on all you stand to gain! Riches, land, power. You are an ambitious man, I can see it in your eyes. How much do you stand to gain?"

"How much do I stand to lose?" He started walking forward, pressing Nachbar back into a corner, a grim expression gracing his countenance.

"I may stand to gain wealth beyond measure, and power beyond that of the goddesses. But how much damage could my selfish pursuits do?" He backed away, turning to the window and gazing out of it, surveying the destruction wrought by that night's siege. "Thousands died today, for a selfish whim. It doesn't matter how justified it was." He turned back to Nachbar, who looked more annoyed than anything.

"I will not have the deaths of innocents on my conscience." Nachbar sighed and shrugged, pulling up his cloak as he made his way to the exit. As he opened the door, he cast a backward glance at the monarch.

"You know, you sound a lot like Vulpix did." He paused dramatically. "He doesn't sound that way anymore." Nachbar waved for Inferno to follow.

"Come on. Celtic's been looking for you."

Inferno turned to Samurai, who was busy reattaching his halberd to the leather strap on his back. He nodded reluctantly and began following his master and Peter to Celtic.

They arrived in the main hall again, where Celtic was speaking with his lieutenants. He seemed to be speaking urgently, as if he had only mere minutes to deliver his message.

Nachbar hummed softly to himself, slightly concerned. "He didn't seem this worried before. What happened, I wonder?"

Celtic waved Inferno over urgently. "Come, we must discuss the situation."

"What's left of the Bumblebee forces has been spotted moving through Pyrruby territory. We believe they may be amassing forces to attack Jaunrrha Citadel. If we lose the Citadel, we lost the Spreadsheet Confluence. If that happens, we lose the blockade and our military supremacy, and the war will be infinitely longer and bloodier. We must stop them."

Greatness snorted. "They're only a couple thousand strong. Why don't we just have our forces in the area smoke them out?"

"Because we believe the nations around Schneekos are providing support and shelter to them. If not that, then their small size means they can evade larger forces more easily." He paused, allowing Vulpix to interrupt.

"They will seek allies. We have to stop them, or at least get the message out to the Citadel to ready the defenses beforehand. The enemy will have to wait to amass their forces, and we'll use that time to move our forces here over there. Any questions?" None raised their voices. Celtic nodded.

"Then let's set out as soon as we can. Dismissed." As the Council filed out of the hall, Celtic extended an arm, holding Inferno back. "Yukon told me about your little conversation. It was six months until he told me about that damn mask."

They paused, creating an uncomfortable silence.

"I understand, Inferno. I won't hold it against you. But do not step out of line again."

Inferno met Celtic's steel gaze, staring into his eyes as they once again fell into silence.

"Promise me, Celtic."

He looked at him quizzically. "Promise you what?"

"Promise me no more innocents will die."

He looked at the ground, stroking his beard. Finally, he looked back up.

"Fine. No more innocents."

"Then we are in accord."

They nodded solemnly, and left the crumbling citadel to begin the march to Arkos.


	12. Chapter 12

Team ANGQ, leaders of the Rowj League, stood in front of their forces, looking down at what would soon be their battlefield. Stationed on their side of the confluence of the four rivers was the fort nominally held by Arkos that Celtic's forces were using to manage the flow of people and supplies through the area and the rivers. ANGQ had arranged their approach to ensure that they would not need to cross any rivers during the battle. All that they needed to contend with were the fortifications and the soldiers stationed within them.

"So," said Quixotic, "What's the plan?"

"We need to put a hole in that fort, otherwise this is an unwinnable battle," said Austin. He smirked. "Fortunately, we have just the tools we need."

As he spoke, as if on cue, several groups of soldiers rolled up a line of six trebuchets, stopping in line with the leaders. Gwydion looked at the trebuchets with hunger in his eyes, eager to put them to use.

"Remind me," said Nitesco, "where did we get these?" Austin waved a hand.

"I pulled some strings."

"Do we have enough ammunition for…" Quixotic trailed off as he noticed massive piles of boulders next to the trebuchets. "Where did we—"

"I pulled some strings," Austin repeated, dismissively. "Now, Gwydion has agreed to stay up here to manage our siege weapons and make sure they're being used to their fullest effect. I love our soldiers, but I swear, some of them are not to be trusted using these things unsupervised."

"What about the three of us?" asked Nitesco. "We're going to be leading the assault, right?"

"That's right," said Austin. "We're going to be down there with our troops, giving orders directly as we make our approach. We'll stay relatively close to each other, so we can easily coordinate and provide support with our squadrons." He looked at Quixotic expectantly. "Think you can handle that?"

Quixotic scoffed. "Of course I can handle it. Don't underestimate me; I'm more capable than I look."

Austin shrugged. "It's just, you've never struck me as someone with much leadership experience."

"I'm a perfectly fine leader! I can get people to follow orders. Watch." Quixotic turned to a passing soldier. "Hey, you."

The soldier turned suddenly, startled. "Sir?"

"Stand on one leg."

The soldier hesitated. "Uh, sir, why—"

Quixotic drew a dagger and pointed it at the poor recruit. "Did I fucking stutter, Jenkins?"

Even more shocked, the soldier raised his hands above his head.

"My name's not—"

"One leg! Now!"

Not-Jenkins complied without another word, raising his left leg off the ground and struggling to maintain balance. Quixotic turned back to his teammates, who each showed varying degrees of exasperation. "See? Leadership is easy."

Austin sighed. "I guess that's one way to do it." He shook his head, refocusing. "Alright, everyone. Get ready to begin the assault in a few minutes. Good luck."

The Rowj Army made its final preparations, and soon began the assault.

* * *

Admiral Al-Jahan, captain of the _Xiphos_ , sat in his ship's cabin doing paperwork. Al-Jahan resented his job deeply; often he would vent to his quartermaster that he would rather be sacked than continue sitting on the confluence going through the review papers for traders wishing to enter and exit the Subreddit's waterways. He complained to his superiors that as an admiral, he should be leading the naval campaign out on the Rooster Teeth Sea, not sitting in his cabin pushing papers. The unfortunate officer was turned away every time, and so there he sat, quill in hand, hoping something interesting would happen before evening came.

His quartermaster knocked on the door.

"Come in." He growled, annoyed.

His timid second-in-command swallowed and reluctantly set down another stack of inventory reviews from fishing vessels being escorted out onto the open sea by a small convoy of Greek Fire ships. Al-Jahan turned a menacing gaze to his quartermaster, who merely averted her eyes.

"The fort is suspicious. They want us to conduct full inventory searches of all the vessels."

The admiral sighed and stood, preparing to tell the men unlucky enough to be assigned to his ship that they would have to take time out of their dinner break to search another ship. He shoved open the door to the deck before steadying himself and sighing.

"Why do we need to do this again? The _Xiphos_ a warship, not a patrol boat."

The quartermaster merely shrugged. "There's a lot of fishing vessels."

Another exasperated groan escaped his lips before he walked out onto the deck.

He noticed the fishing boats out in the distance. The last rays of the setting sun illuminated the inlet, allowing him to see despite his failing vision.

The schooners escorting them flew the Greek Fire colors, their deep crimson and bright gold colors flying in the wind. The unmarked fishing boats zigzagged in between their escorts, as if trying to find which ship to go to. Finally, they fell into formation, each one advancing towards the ship due to inspect them in a perfect line.

Their escorts, however, hung back. They reeled in the sails, not stopping, but slowing down. The admiral stroked his beard, suspicious, yet curious.

"Should I give the signal for them to stop?" The quartermaster piped up. Al-Jahan waved her off, forcing a snicker.

"What are they going to do, attack us? They're fishing vessels. It'd be a suicide run." He turned around to face her.

"I disagree, Admiral. They may attack us."

"And maybe the sky will open up and fire will rain down from the heavens, but I doubt that just as much." He leaned on the edge of the ship and cried out to the vessels, which had not slowed down. He leaned in to examine them closer, straining his eyes. He saw the crews of the ships tie the ropes to keep the ships going full speed, before diving overboard. Almost on cue, teach one of the ships erupted in flames.

Al-Jahan gasped in horror, suddenly retracting his earlier remarks about the quiet evening. He turned to the quartermaster, who merely screamed one word:

"Fireships!"

The crew began stumbling about the deck, untying the riggings, readying the cannons, a few clamoring up the steps to the wheel in a vain attempt to pilot the ship out of harm's way. They weren't fast enough.

The fireship narrowly missed the front end of the ship, instead skirting along the edge until the powder in its hold finally exploded, rupturing the side of the vessel and laying waste to his men. Other, smaller explosions echoed around him, decimating the blockade and sinking some of the smaller ships with a single explosion. The _Xiphos_ began to capsize.

The admiral wasted no time in diving overboard, abandoning his already-doomed ship and leaving his quartermaster on board. Several of his sailors followed suit, choosing the murky depths of the confluence to the rapidly-capsizing flagship, diving into the water before surfacing and observing the ruins of the blockade. The Greek Fire ships began firing at the remaining ships, taking advantage of their surprise to deal devastating strikes. From the riverbank, he could see trebuchets hurling massive projectiles at both the fortress and a few ships that were docked or stationed near the edge of the river.

Nur Al-Jahan cursed his luck and began swimming to the opposite shore.

* * *

The attack went better than expected.

Austin had expected at least some of the soldiers to stay and guard the front gates in case the naval attack was a distraction. To Austin's surprise, but not displeasure, almost all of the Citadel's personnel began scurrying over to the wall overlooking the open sea, where the blockade was currently being blown to oblivion. A couple of the smarter ones hastened to the west side of the fort to see where the trebuchet fire was coming from. Unfortunately for them, they failed to notice that their enemy was closer than they thought.

A few trebuchets stationed closer to the fort flung their projectiles with pinpoint accuracy, shattering the weakest portions of the wall. Austin leveled his sword at the breach, and the soldiers under his command gushed forward like water from a dam.

The Arkos soldiers were surprisingly quick to respond, filing out of the holes in the walls and meeting the Rowj soldiers with desperate ferocity. The veteran merely laughed at the futility of their defense and ran headfirst into the fray.

Nitesco followed him eagerly, swinging his sword wildly and protecting Austin from any threat that came from behind. Conversely, Quixotic broke off from the main group and carved his own path towards the breach, gracefully dancing through the enemy lines, a trail of blood following the path of his blade. The trio now stood in the middle of the fray, miraculously unharmed.

Austin suddenly questioned whether diving straight into the action was a good strategy after all.

"Nitesco! Are you alright?"

Nitesco responded by grabbing Austin's wrist and sprinting to the cover of a pile of bricks, presumably the wreckage of the ruined battlement above them. Quixotic managed to part the soldiers and make his way over to the temporary cover.

"What's the plan?" Quixotic asked, out of breath.

"Most of our troops are engaged right at the front of the fort, but I left a few regiments to defend Gwydion and the artillery. If our enemies go around and flank them, those regiments are doomed."

"Like that?" Nitesco jabbed a finger in the direction of a column of Arkos soldiers that was rapidly advancing through the woods on one side of the main path into the Citadel.

Austin coolly scrutinized the men, looking for a tactical advantage in the snowy terrain that they were concealed by. Quixotic muttered a few unfamiliar expletives under his breath.

"What are we going to do? They'll tear our trebuchets to bits if we don't stop them!"

Nitesco responded by sprinting out from behind the cover, prompting his two advisors to exchange worried glances before following him.

"Nitesco! What are you doing?" Austin screamed over the sounds of the bloodbath at the gate that they were quickly leaving behind. Nitesco neglected to answer, instead picking up his pace. He arrived at the lightly defended entrenchment at the top of the hill that overlooked the Citadel. A poor design on Arkos' part, Nitesco noted.

Austin clambered up the hill behind him, arriving next to him and coughing slightly. Quixotic lagged behind, dropping to his knees and panting like a dog.

"How is it that I have less stamina than an old man twice my age?" Austin merely shrugged and helped him to his feet.

Gwydion stumbled over to them, clearly concerned.

"What are you doing up here? The battle needs you!"

"They can handle themselves for now. You're about to come under attack. There!" Quixotic stammered between deep breaths and jabbed a finger in the direction of the snow-capped trees. Almost on cue, the battalion of enemy soldiers, larger than previously expected, emerged from the tree line and began marching up the hill. Gwydion swallowed nervously before barking orders to his men.

"I want anybody who is not loading the trebuchets to follow our commanders and counterattack the Arkos scum! Alroy, Lance, you can stay." He turned to the trio and inhaled sharply.

"Please save our lives." He laughed, trying to ease the tension. Quixotic, having mostly regained his breath, saluted wittily and joined the forces charging down the hill. Austin and Nitesco both gave Gwydion the most confident glances they could before following their men.

Though outnumbered, the Rowj forces had the higher ground and were able to deal some moderate damage before the skirmish with the unusually gutsy Arkos soldiers devolved into a bloodbath. Nitesco made wide, sweeping strikes against his enemies, knocking those he could off balance and simply taking the less vulnerable down with a dirty kick to the shins. Austin struck slowly, but intently, holding the men who decided to attack him back before taking advantage of the openings he created in their defenses. Quixotic nimbly dodged and rolled around his enemies before slashing them with his serrated blade and proceeding to disable them as showily as possible.

Austin and Nitesco polished off a few remaining soldiers while their men chased the retreating remnants of the brash assault back into the woods. Quixotic swept at the commander's wrists, sending his opponent's comically oversized broadsword into the air before he caught it and brought it down into his opponent's skull. "Ha! Did you see that? Marvelous!" Quixotic chuckled sadistically while Austin turned his attention to the riverbank. On the east side of the battlefield, he could see a large force crossing the thinnest part of the river on foot. He could see, but only just barely, the red flags of Arkos and the brown flags of Crosshares dancing in the winter breeze. He smirked.

"Don't get too excited, my friend." He smirked wistfully. "This battle's not over yet."

* * *

Vulpix had arrived on horseback with Inferno, Shippo and their respective forces to discover the fort at the confluence already under attack. With great difficulty, they had crossed a river under sustained trebuchet fire and entered the fray to defend the crumbling fortress. Now, after sustaining heavy losses, the three leaders were face to face with what were apparently the leaders of the opposing army, preparing to make a final effort to rout the attackers. Vulpix had been hit several times over the course of the battle by stray projectiles and debris, and though he had received no serious injury, he was fatigued, frustrated, and fearful.

Vulpix was not having a good day.

He stepped forward with his sword ready, prepared to engage the enemy leaders. He yelled over the roar of the surrounding fighting. "I am general Vulpix of Arkos. These are King Inferno and Shippo of Crosshares. Who are you, and by what authority do you lead this army?"

The one in the middle stepped forward with his own weapon in hand. "I am Austin, and these are the mighty Nitesco and Quixotic. We lead by right of popular consensus."

Popular consensus? What is this, a republic?

"What nation does this army fight for?" Vulpix asked.

"None in particular," said Nitesco.

What the hell?

"Why are you attacking us?" Vulpix asked, growing increasingly annoyed.

"Because we hate Celtic," said Quixotic, plainly. Vulpix blinked, taken aback by this unusual set of circumstances.

"Alright," said Shippo, "I've heard enough. Let's end this." Inferno nodded. Together the trio charged forward and engaged Quixotic, Austin, and Nitesco in combat.

The fighting was fierce, with each combatant displaying his own skills as a fighter. Shippo swung. Quixotic dodged. Inferno thrusted. Austin parried. Nitesco kicked. Vulpix received a kick. Vulpix's day continued to go poorly.

The struggle continued with no side having a clear advantage for some time. Suddenly, Shippo lunged forward and grabbed Nitesco, and held a sword to his throat.

"Drop your weapons and surrender, now!" He demanded.

Quixotic saw this and reacted instantly. He dove forward, tackled Inferno, and held a sword to Inferno's throat in turn.

"No," he said coldly. "You drop your weapons."

"Get off of him, now!" Shippo demanded. He dug the sword into Nitesco's throat slightly, prompting a frightened shout from Nitesco. For fear of being cut open, Nitesco remained still.

"You don't want to play that game with me," Quixotic replied. He pressed his sword into Inferno, coming just short of drawing blood. For fear of being cut open, Inferno remained still.

"Everybody STOP!" Vulpix screamed. Those without swords to their necks turned to look at him.

"I can see this is only going to end poorly for all of us if it continues. So, here's what's going to happen." He turned to Austin. "I'm going to lower my weapon. You do the same."

Austin nodded. "We're going to exchange hostages?"

"That's right," said Vulpix, lowering his sword and watching Austin carefully as he did the same. "Now, slowly and carefully, we're going to give each other our men back. Afterward, we're all going to go to the back line of our respective armies. Any questions?"

Quixotic spoke. "Yeah, I've got one. Austin, why the hell are you trusting these guys?"

"Because they're trusting us," Austin replied. "I know they are, because they have too much at stake to not. Isn't that right, Vulpix?"

Vulpix sighed. "I can't let you kill Inferno. He's too important. I assume Nitesco carries a similar importance for all of you."

"You assume correctly," said Austin. "Now, Nitesco and Inferno, listen carefully. Shippo and Quixotic are going to move you to your respective sides, and then return to their own sides. Until we give you the all-clear: Don't. Fucking. Move."

"Yeah, okay," Nitesco said quickly, whose voice was an octave higher than it normally was.

"Wasn't planning on it," said Inferno, whose face was several shades paler than it normally was.

The exchange went slowly, but without a hitch. Quixotic and Shippo glared at each other as they returned the hostages and walked back, but neither made a move to attack, complying with the wishes of their respective comrades. Before this day, none present would have thought it possible for there to be an awkward silence in the middle of a battle. However, an awkward silence there was, as each side looked for a second at the other. Nobody was sure what to do.

Vulpix turned to Inferno, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay, my friend?"

Inferno nodded, holding his neck. "I'll be fine. He didn't hurt more than my pride."

At the same time, Austin looked at Nitesco. "Nitesco, how are you doing?"

Nitesco shakily gave a thumbs-up, though his face showed that his feelings did not match his thumb.

Vulpix addressed Austin. "Thank you for your cooperation; for a moment I was afraid I was going to lose someone important to me—to our cause."

"No," said Austin, "Thank you. It's rare that I meet a commander with such a level head. I hope we meet again." Austin looked up and examined his army's objective, the fort they were assaulting.

The fort was severely damaged. There were at least a dozen gaping holes in the walls, and three towers had been demolished. Bodies decorated the tops of the walls and ground in front of the fort, and a large group of Arkos soldiers was struggling to contain a fire. How that fire had broken out, Austin had no idea. That was presumably Gwydion's work. Austin turned to his friends.

"Quixotic, Nitesco, let's give the retreat order. We're done here." Nitesco nodded. He leaned on Quixotic, who supported him as the two walked back toward their army. Similarly, Shippo supported his lord Inferno as the two walked back toward the fort. Austin and Vulpix exchanged one last look, then turned and followed their comrades.

As Austin, Quixotic, and Nitesco made it back to camp with what remained of their army, Gwydion and the men with him rose to meet them.

"Everyone!" said Gwydion. "I'm glad to see you all alive. I saw things got really dicey for a while. How'd you all get out of there?" Austin looked at Nitesco. Nitesco was shaking, and a cut on his neck was visible. His arms were wrapped around Quixotic, who somewhat uncomfortably rested a hand on Nitesco's shoulder. Austin looked back at Gwydion.

"We pulled some strings."


	13. Chapter 13

Nitesco ambled through the newly-struck camp, seeking out the other three members of ANGQ among the loud bustle of their celebrating men and the widespread carousing that now reduced the great men of the Rowj League to a drunken horde. After narrowly dodging a flying beer mug, the young commander ducked into Gwydion's tent, where Austin was hunched over an untidy pile of papers and Gwydion was carefully examining Quixotic's blade.

"So, why aren't you all joining the festivities?" Nitesco asked.

Austin briefly turned his head to acknowledge his co-commander's presence before returning his focus to the papers.

"I'm examining intelligence reports to prepare our next move, and Gwydion is repairing the damage to the serrations on Jaeger's sword. Speaking of, have you seen Quixotic? I'd like him to be here when I give the rundown on our options."

Nitesco shrugged. "I was hoping you'd have seen-"

He was rudely interrupted when an exhausted and, for some reason, shirtless Quixotic announced his presence by kicking the tent flaps open and collapsing onto a chair in the corner, startling Nitesco. The young man stared uneasily at the strange sight, Austin pinched the bridge of his nose and pretended not to notice, and Gwydion, who was too engrossed in the repair of Jaeger's blade to care, did nothing. Austin grabbed a white tunic, conveniently located on top of a small chest, and tossed it to the scoundrel, who had a smirk imprinted on his face.

"What the hell? What just happened?" Nitesco wondered aloud as he slowly backed away from Quixotic. The drunkard donned the tunic and folded his hands in his lap triumphantly.

"I just had an impromptu meeting with Sergeant Charles Karling, for your information."

"What kind of meeting?" Gwydion butted in awkwardly.

Quixotic snickered. "I gave him a good tumble."

Gwydion and Nitesco chuckled, amused. Austin wondered why that phrase sounded so familiar. He shrugged it off and beckoned for the others to gather around his strategy table.

"Alright. The Junipera quarter is now in open rebellion against Celtic, and with the fall of Arkos and the destruction of the blockade, it should prove to be a significant drain on his resources."

His finger shifted from the northwest to the northeast corner of the map.

"Rubia is likewise a hotbed of resistance, but with the subjugation of both White Rose and Bumblebee, it's complete anarchy. Minor lords are taking advantage of the lack of a direct authority by rebelling against their suzerains and trying to take chunks out of their rivals. It's too chaotic for any support we give to matter there."

His finger went directly south, tracing a path across the mountains that housed the sheltered nation of Guns N' Roses and stopping right in the center of Villainia.

"Villainia's southern states are rebelling against Celtic, but Yukon and his generals have been campaigning there since the fall of White Rose. They can't hold out for long, and if we're going to give them support, we should supply it soon."

Austin's hand finally moved to the bottom left corner of the map: Heroa.

"Heroa is almost completely under Celtic's control. Only a few, very brave lords continue to resist, but Jokey, Celtic's assassin, has made sure that they are quickly pacified. It would be futile to try and help them."

Austin leaned back in his chair while his comrades absorbed the information. Gwydion cleared his throat, further scrutinizing the situation.

"Where do we go next?" Nitesco piped up.

"Either Rubia or southern Villainia. Though Rubia would be a greater source of resources and manpower, the situation is volatile and poses a greater risk of losing our men. Villainia is organized and ready to fight with us, but they are minor lords and can only provide us minimal, if any, support."

"If Rubia is in such a bad spot, then it would be futile to spend manpower there. We'd end up with nothing to show for it. It has to be Villainia." Quixotic said, in a rare display of maturity.

"I vote we head for Villainia." Nitesco proposed. "All in favor?" All four commanders raised their hands.

The now-clothed Quixotic in the corner nodded contemplatively. "And what of Celtic's Council? Do we have any information on them?" Austin shook his head, earning a disappointed frown from Gwydion.

"Our intelligence regarding the leaders is minimal. We know some of their names, the countries of origin, and in the case of Maker, her past profession. Other than that, our knowledge is lacking."

"We have identified their roles in the rebellion, however. Celtic is the ringleader. Vulpix, Inferno and Yukon are assigned to lead campaigns in their respective regions of the Subreddit, though I don't know why Inferno was with Vulpix during the battle. Vulpix's behavior during the battle suggests an emotional connection, and this will be investigated further."

"Regardless, the last three are the most unique. Jokey and Maker appear to be his assassin and artificer, respectively, but Maker also appears to have significant combat skill. Lastly, Greatness is in charge of the mercenary legion known as the 942nd Cavaliers. These men appear to be loyal to Celtic beyond obligation to coin, and they currently patrol the Rubian quarter making sure the lords don't join together against Celtic. Their unorthodox tactics make them a danger to potential operations there."

Austin paused. "942nd. That sounds like an awfully specific number," he mused aloud.

Nitesco turned to the blacksmith, an idea having come to mind.

"Gwydion, wasn't your father the leader of the Fallen Angels? Can you tell us anything about these Cavaliers?"

Gwydion shook his head. "No. If you asked me, I could recognize the name of any mercenary company that existed before the Third Shipping War. I haven't heard of these men."

Quixotic shook his head. "Wait, you were a member of the Fallen Angels?" He laughed. "I had no idea you were so badass!"

"I was only a blacksmith, I rarely saw combat. Regardless, name-dropping my father could help in getting information on these Cavaliers."

"What happened to the Fallen Angels, if I may ask?" Austin wondered aloud. Gwydion sighed, remembering the awful memory.

"We were charged with defending a castle in Lancaster from invaders, because their army was short on men. We defended the region to which we were assigned against Arkosian soldiers, but we were beaten back to the fortress where we coordinated our defenses. One night, when my father and those loyal to him were asleep, his lieutenant Magnus gathered some of the men and opened the portcullis and let the Arkosians in. My brothers, my father and his loyalists were all massacred."

Nitesco scratched his nose. "Then how'd you escape?"

"I was in the armory, repairing one of my brother's axes, when I heard the sounds of battle. I knew I was a goner if I stayed, so I managed to flee out a back exit before we were surrounded."

Austin interrupted. "If you don't mind me asking, do you remember how many men were in your company?"

Gwydion laughed a bit. "I still do, after all these years. We were a small fighting force, but we were strong. We numbered…" He trailed off, his face morphing from a soft smile to a grave frown.

"Nine hundred and forty-two men." He looked at Austin, whose expression was equally grave.

"Do you know what the translation of the word Magnus is, my friend?"

Gwydion reluctantly shook his head.

"Greatness."

The young blacksmith sharply exhaled, his eyes widening as a flood of memory washed over him. The other three looked at him, worried.

"After all these years…" He trailed off, the magnitude of the situation overwhelming him.

"Can it really be him?"

"My friend," Nitesco chimed in, "It's important that you don't let your emotions get the better of you. Now is not the time to be striking off on quests for revenge, and—"

Gwydion raised his hand, immediately silencing his compatriot. He raised his head and looked each of his fellow commanders in the eyes.

"I've had nineteen years to work through my grief. I'm over it. If I want Greatness dead, it is because he is a coward, a brute and a traitor, not because he killed my father. You needn't worry about me."

Austin nodded softly, though he was skeptical of Gwydion's claim. Quixotic too, was doubtful, but merely sighed and slouched in his seat.

Outside, the celebrations continued uninterrupted.

"I'm serious, I'll be fine," Gwydion insisted. "Now go. I need to finish repairing Quixotic's sword."

The other three exchanged worried glances before quietly exiting the tent, leaving their ally alone with his thoughts.

Once outside, Quixotic sighed quietly, casting a forlorn glance at the tent before turning back to Nitesco and Austin, who were equally concerned.

"God, Austin, you couldn't have left that out?"

"Better he find out here than on the battlefield. Give him a few days, he'll get over it."

"Still, you could have—"

Nitesco stepped in between them, hoping to ease the tension. "Hey. Now is not the time for this. We'll start preparing the ships the Schneekosians gave us tonight, and tomorrow we'll depart for Villainia. Sound good?"

"Yes." The pair replied in unison.

The young man nodded, satisfied.

"Good. Get to it."

The three of them dispersed, off to prepare for what was to come.

* * *

Yukon walked through the halls of the castle that Inferno had provided for them, recently returned from his conquests in the south. The foolish peasants really thought they could resist the force of change, but he knew better. They would be ground underfoot, like those rebel scum in Junipera that Vulpix and Inferno were busy dealing with.

He came to a stop in front of two small oak doors, in front of which two Night's Watch soldiers stood, on guard. The mask-laden conspirator waved them aside, and they quickly gave a small bow and hurried off. Yukon laughed, opening the doors and entering the room as they left.

He closed the doors as the room's two occupants, Greatness and Maker, looked up from a casual game of cards to see who had disturbed them. As Yukon walked over to the table and took a seat, Maker grinned and set her cards down on the table, revealing four jacks and an eight.

Greatness huffed and placed his cards face down on the table, pushing a small stack of coins to Maker, whose smug grin threatened to split her face in two. The mercenary leader flipped his hair out of his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

"You know, if I hadn't been winning in the first half of the game, I'd accuse you of cheating."

"It's all luck, and yours seems to have run out, my good sir." Maker laughed, pocketing the coins and turning her attention to Yukon.

"Hello, Edward. What brings you here?"

Yukon scoffed. "Only my wife calls me that, Octavia." Maker furrowed her brow, and he chuckled lightheartedly. "Speaking of spouses, how's yours?"

"He's stationed somewhere in South Heroa. When we see each other again, we'll trade war stories."

The Emberaldian ran his hands through his hair, which was due for a wash. Yukon finally reached behind the dark green hood of his tunic and unbuckled the wolf skull, setting it on the table. "Why do you wear such an uncomfortable thing? I can only imagine how suffocating it must be," Maker said.

"Oh, it is. But the people of Emberald are deeply religious, and one of the great prophecies says that a man with the face and the name of a wolf will bring them to prosperity, so I must oblige. Once this war is over, I'll slowly introduce them to the truth."

He turned to Greatness, who had been lost in thought; an unusual occurrence for him.

"Greatness, you seem distracted. What's on your mind?"

He snapped out of his daze, turning to face Yukon before his eyes glazed over and he returned to a reverie. "So, a while back, during the battle of Renora, I met this guy, right?"

His two companions nodded.

"He seemed familiar. I encountered him once before, at Bumblebee, though I didn't get a good look at him then. It was bothering me until this morning, when I finally realized who he was."

"And who was that?" Maker inquired.

"He is the son of the former leader of the Fallen Angels legion." Maker and Yukon cocked their heads in interest. The high priest leaned forward.

"Intriguing. How did you find this out?"

"When I woke up this morning, I went down to the armory to fetch my blade. I got to thinking about the old times. The kid I mentioned was the greatest blacksmith I've ever met, even though he was only about sixteen or seventeen when it happened. I started reminiscing about that, and then it clicked." He smiled. "It's been bugging me all month. I'm glad I finally figured it out."

"Well, good for you," Yukon said. "But what are you going to do about it? Will you hunt him down or something?"

The mercenary shook his head. "No, I don't think so. It's been nearly twenty years, why would this all of a sudden be a problem?"

"A fair point."

"Well, that's done." Maker stood and clapped her hands together. "Do you guys want to come down to my lab? I've been working on this new toxin and I think you guys will really—"

A sudden knocking at the door interrupted Maker and startled Greatness. Yukon muttered an expletive under his breath and grabbed the skull, hastily buckling it to his head before turning to face the door.

"Come in."

One of Celtic's servants pushed the door open. He cleared his throat.

"General Vulpix and King Inferno have returned from their conquests in Arkos. He requests your presence in the throne room to hear the debriefing." He turned around and walked out quickly. The three of them collectively sighed.

"Maybe another time, Maker." Greatness remarked as they set off to the throne room.

When they got there, Celtic was white with fury. Far from his usual calm, he seemed a hair's breadth from strangling both Inferno and Vulpix.

"YOU MEAN TO SAY YOU LOST THE BLOCKADE?" He bellowed, shaking the entire throne room. Vulpix seemed to shrink further into his uniform.

"Sir, the attack was underway long before we arrived. There was nothing we could have-"

"THEN WHO IS RESPONSIBLE?"

"Admiral Al-Jahan, sir." Shippo spoke up, his voice somewhat muffled by his armor.

Celtic beckoned for a frightened servant to come forward. He produced a quill, ink and a scrap of parchment from the cabinet next to his throne, and hastily wrote a short message on it. When finished, he handed it back to the page, who hurriedly exited the room.

"Al-Jahan will be executed for incompetence. You are lucky to be part of my Council, otherwise I would have you beaten and hung, or worse, leave you at the mercy of those three over there." He jabbed a finger at the somewhat uncomfortable trio waiting in the corner of the room, and they reflexively shrank back a little. Celtic gave them no heed.

"Be glad I do not have Jokey exact punishment on you. Speaking of…" He looked around.

"Where is he? Maker, go find Jokey. Vulpix, Inferno, Samurai, you're dismissed. Yukon, Greatness, a word. We must devise a new strategy against these infernal rebels." Maker departed, eager to leave Celtic's presence, while Greatness and Yukon gave a light bow and followed their liege to the council chamber.

Maker traversed the halls of the castle, trying to remember the path to Jokey's room. After some confusion, she finally found his door and knocked on it. When she heard no response, she pushed the door open.

Jokey was sitting in the corner of the room, staring intently at a single candle on his bedside table, the only source of light in the room. With it, she could see soft pink trails down his face; he had been crying.

When he saw her, he wiped his eyes and looked at her, unsuccessfully feigning calmness. He smiled halfheartedly.

"Maker. What brings you around?"

She sighed and sat down next to him on the bed. He avoided her gaze.

"You know, for all your gifts and talents, you are a horrible liar." He laughed a bit, and the gravelly sound of his voice echoing off the walls. His false smile faded, and he sighed.

"I was just thinking. About my mother and her last words to me." Maker said nothing, but he knew she wanted him to go on.

"She hated me. From the moment I was born, she hated me. She hated having to care for something that wasn't herself. Everything she did, she did for only her."

"But I still loved her, deep down. How could I not? She was my mother. But I killed her. I let her fall into that pit. I watched her burn and crackle sizzle and scream, and I liked it."

He turned to his friend, who looked at Jokey inquiringly.

"Is this all I can do? Is destruction all I'm capable of? I tortured animals as a child. I accidentally killed my father as a teenager. Now, as a grown man, all I do is bring death and suffering."

He sighed, choking back tears. Maker merely placed her hand on his back. He turned and stared mournfully into her eyes.

"Jokey, Celtic told me that when he met you, you were wandering about in the middle of the Renoran winter, nearly delirious and missing an arm. You shambled into your camp and collapsed. And so he took you in as a brother."

"You talked and you talked about all these different things, about ideas and thoughts and new philosophies. And then you started recovering. You built yourself a prosthetic with only one hand. You crafted your swords and your helmet with a bit of steel and the leather from a dead deer."

"I did." He scoffed. "Is there a point to this?"

"The point is, Jokey, you could have never done those things without that accident. Without the loss of your family and your home. You did great things, but first you had to be torn down. You had to be destroyed."

"You are much like this great Subreddit of ours. You have so much potential, but to access that, you have to be destroyed and worn down to the foundations. Then, and only then, can you be made anew."

"Which do you choose, Jokey von Zockey? Will you remake yourself, or will you continue with the error of your old ways?" He nodded along, letting her words sink in. After a bit, he smiled.

"You're right, Maker. Thank you." He sniffled. "You're a good friend. Now come on, we'd best report to Celtic."

They walked down the winding corridors of the deceptively large castle before arriving in the throne room, where a calmer Celtic was addressing the high priest and the mercenary. He noticed their entrance and walked over to them, leaving his advisors behind.

"Jokey, where were you? I haven't seen you for some time."

"Unimportant. I have had a revelation." He walked into the middle of the room and turned to face all present.

"You see, Maker has pointed out to me that for change to occur, we must first destroy the old way things were done. We derive our power from the leader, the king. They derive their power from the people."

Greatness and Yukon exchanged looks, not quite understanding where he was coming from, but liking where he was going.

"If this pathetic league of theirs doesn't have popular support, they will falter and crumble beneath their own weight. And the people won't join them if they see them as the enemy." He turned and pointed at Greatness.

"Your men have no qualms attacking civilian targets, yes?"

He shrugged. "It doesn't sit well with them, but they'll do it."

"Fantastic. Tell your men to disguise themselves as these insurgents, then raid some small settlements. Word will spread, and if they don't collapse inwards, then they will be weakened enough that a single blow will end this before it has a chance to progress."

Yukon laughed. "A clever plan. I like it."

Celtic clapped his hands together. "Then we are all in accord. Come, we'll recover from our losses yet!" He went into his personal cabinet and retrieved a bottle of wine.

The Council drank and prepared the downfall of their enemies.


	14. Chapter 14

From the battlements of Inferno's castle, Vulpix looked down on the large trading port below, Pollination. The castle, which was situated on a hill that overlooked the city, offered a beautiful view of the sunset. The last rays of the setting sun glistened off the ever-flowing waters of the Sunken River, which converged with the Crack River a few miles down. He had to admit, it was beautiful.

He heard someone behind him. Before he could turn around to see who it was, Inferno was there, standing next to him. They both looked down on the city.

"You know, I spent the first twenty years of my life here."

Vulpix turned to him. "Really? I would have thought you stayed in the capital with your father."

"No," Inferno chuckled. He paused. "Fun fact: I'm illegitimate. Well, not that many people know that."

Vulpix looked at him, surprised. The Crosshares king laughed again.

"Before the Third Shipping War, my father stayed here during the summer. He had a child with the mayor of the city. The mayor was my mother. I was brought up in her care, being told that my father had died of illness shortly after I was born. From an early age, I was taught to be an administrator."

"Then the war came, and most of my father's legitimate children, my half-siblings, were killed in battle. The others killed each other in an effort to become my father's heir."

"Eventually, my father died, but the only remaining legitimate child was an imbecile who was completely incapable. He died about a year into his reign, but the throne did not pass to his cousins. Apparently, it was known among the court that I was his son, and since I had proven to be a more capable administrator than my cousins, they raised me to the throne and retroactively added me to the family trees. After seeing what my half-brother did to the country, nobody really questioned it."

Vulpix stroked his chin. "A most interesting tale. But why would you tell me this?"

Inferno shrugged. "Because I trust you."

They both returned their gaze to the setting sun, which had almost disappeared behind the horizon. The pair stayed that way for a while.

A sudden tap on the shoulder startled Vulpix, whose sudden movement snapped Inferno out of his reverie as well. Behind them stood Jokey, who had a ghost of a smile on his face.

"My friends," he said in his gravelly voice, "Celtic is expecting us."

They nodded, and Inferno descended the staircase back into the main castle. As Vulpix followed the king, Jokey nudged him playfully, earning a scornful look.

They reached the throne room, where the rest of the Council either sat or stood. Celtic was whispering to Nachbar and Samurai leaned patiently on a pillar in the center of the room. The oldest of the Council, Maker, Greatness and Yukon, stood opposite Samurai, talking and laughing like young gossips.

Celtic, noticing the three's arrival, cleared his throat. The Council suddenly quieted and stood at attention, waiting for their liege to begin.

"Gentlemen, it seems that there has been an unexpected, yet favorable development. Yukon, tell them what you've learned." Yukon cleared his throat and stepped forward.

"My scouts have reported that a large portion of these insufferable insurgents are traveling down the river by ship. This is our opportunity to wipe out their leadership and end this quickly. We can engage them navally and force them onto the beach. There, they will be slaughtered."

"Wait." Inferno said. "If we engage them here, they could disembark and attack the settlement below. It has no defenses, and thousands of civilians could die."

Celtic replied, "But here, we have an opportunity to end this war. How many lives can we save if we end this cleanly now? Surely the risk is worth it."

Inferno walked up to him and stared him straight in the eye. The entire room became uneasy. Vulpix raised a hand to his mouth, stifling a gasp. Samurai and Jokey instinctively reached for their weapons. Greatness awkwardly cleared his throat while Maker and Yukon slowly receded into the shadows. Nachbar merely smiled.

"You promised me," Inferno whispered. "No more innocents." The entire chamber was dead silent. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Celtic finally relented.

"Fine."

Inferno nodded tersely. He beckoned for Samurai to return to his side as he exited the room. The remaining Council members glanced at each other uncomfortably before they all turned their gaze to Celtic.

"We're…not really going to let an opportunity like this go, right?" Greatness asked. Celtic merely sighed.

"It seems we are. We must keep this Council together, or this new order we have so carefully constructed will collapse inward, and all our work and sacrifice will be for naught."

"If I may," Peter spoke up, "It is possible to keep Inferno from lashing out at us while eliminating the insurgent leadership. If we use the cannons to hole the ships beneath the waterline, then we can destroy them without any harm to the city."

"A good plan," Maker voiced her opinion.

"I concur," Celtic said. "All in favor?"

Jokey raised his hand, and he was quickly followed by Yukon, Greatness and Maker. Vulpix hesitantly raised his hand as well. "Then it is decided," Celtic said. Jokey, go tell the generals to set up artillery on either side of the river. The rest of you, return to your duties." Vulpix nodded and began walking out of the throne room, only to feel a cold, metal hand on his shoulder. Jokey beckoned for him to walk with him.

"What is it?" The general asked impatiently.

"When Nachbar proposed his plan, you hesitated to raise your hand. Why?"

"We shouldn't risk upsetting Inferno. Not when it could mean the destruction of what we've worked so hard to achieve."

"Is that all?"

Vulpix huffed and brushed off Jokey's hand. He merely laughed and began the walk down to the shore, where the generals were. Al-Jahan and an Arkos colonel were standing on the shore having a conversation. Al-Jahan noticed Jokey walking toward them and instinctively stood at attention.

"Sir von Zockey, sir!" He cried. The colonel gave a more casual salute.

"I have a message for both of you. Colonel, have your men set up cannons on both sides of the river. When the rebels come through, we're going to blow them into kingdom come! Station a couple brigades on the shores too, as to mop up any survivors. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. I'll get to work right away."

Jokey, with a wicked grin on his face, turned to Al-Jahan.

"I have a message for you too, my good sir."

The admiral swallowed. "And what would that b-"

The assassin drew his sword and rammed it into Al-Jahan's stomach. He gasped in pain and grabbed Jokey's shoulders to steady himself.

"Failure is not tolerated." Jokey wrenched the sword from the admiral's gut, watching with satisfaction as he fell to the ground, already dead. He turned to the colonel, who cleared his throat and walked away, unnerved.

As he walked away, another of Celtic's advisors stopped him, the one named Nachbar.

"Hey, my guy, I have another message for you. You know those cannons? Station them in the settlement; the rebels won't attack them there."

The colonel nodded. "Alright then. I'll get to it."

The officer walked off, leaving Nachbar on the shore line alone. He smiled to himself.

The spymaster began walking down the shoreline, watching the last light of the day slowly dissipate beyond the horizon. A beautiful sight, but he had more important work to attend to.

Nachbar walked for some time, before finding a medium-sized pile of rocks on a small crag above the sandbar. There, he sat down and pulled a small pouch of vegetables, half a loaf of bread and a skin of wine out of his satchel; his dinner for the day. The spymaster set them on the rocks and reached into his pocket.

He pulled out a small tinderbox with a stick of wood and a fire striker, and a firework specially imported from the faraway lands of Chibi in the east. Nachbar set it next to him on the rock and took a bite out of the loaf of bread.

As he looked down the river, he praised himself for his own ingeniousness. He took a bite out of a small potato and grinned as he waited for his enemies' ships to arrive.

* * *

On the deck of the _Flamebearer_ the sailors crowded around Quixotic and Gwydion, who stared at each other, stone-faced. Around them, the soldiers threw coins at Nitesco, who gladly took and logged their bets.

Quixotic raised his arm. The whole crowd fell silent.

The rogue closed his eyes and threw the pair of dice across the deck of the ship. He opened his eyes, ready for his long-awaited victory, but his hope was quickly dashed. The dice turned up a three.

Gwydion laughed and grabbed the dice; it was his turn to roll. As Nitesco hurriedly doled out the soldier's rewards to their bets, the blacksmith turned to him.

"I thought you were a serf. Where'd you learn to take odds?" Nitesco laughed, reminiscing. "When I ran away, to the city, I was taken in as a bartender for a tavern. The tavern hosted dice games, and I slowly learned how the odds worked. I built up a small fortune rigging games for the house. If we ever go there, I'll show you the place."

Gwydion laughed and turned to Quixotic.

"You know," he said, "for such a scoundrel, you're really bad at dice games." Quixotic scowled.

"You know, I only learned how to play this a few years ago. Freezerburn strictly prohibits gambling of any kind, and I guess I always kept that with me."

"You were from Freezerburn? Gwydion asked. "I would have pegged you as an Enablerese."

Quixotic extended his middle finger just as Austin emerged from his cabin in the lower decks. He stood outside and stretched his arms.

"It's a nice night tonight. Good to see three fourths of our leadership gambling their savings away." He scoffed, half-joking.

"Can't gamble your life savings if you don't have any savings." Quixotic remarked, tapping the side of his head as he did so. The other three shared a laugh.

Austin beckoned to his co-commanders to follow him. The went over to the stern of the boat, away from prying ears. Nitesco and Gwydion leaned on the edge while Austin and Quixotic stood in front of them.

"So, how long until we reach Villainia?" Gwydion asked.

Austin cleared his throat. "I don't know. I'll ask the captain of the ship later. In the meantime, keep a look out for any pigeons you see. I sent one out to a mutual friend in Jaded, and he's lending his support to us."

"Do you think this'll work?" Nitesco piped up. "Celtic's more powerful than I'd like to admit, and his lieutenants are utterly ruthless. It's going to take more than a couple legions here and there to-"

"Guys." Quixotic interrupted. He pointed to a small light on the riverbank. It couldn't have been very large, but in the dark of the night, they could see it very clearly.

Suddenly, they heard a strange sound, like something flying up very quickly. All of a sudden, the night was illuminated with a large flash of light, and a huge bang disturbed the strange quiet. The flash lit up the shoreline. For an instant, the four of them saw everything as clear as day. Cannons were lined up on either side of the river, hidden in the treeline. Gwydion gasped.

"Ready the cannons!"

As soon as the words left his lips, cannon fire descended on them from both sides. One struck off the mast of the boat, sending pieces of wood everywhere and forcing the leaders down. The lumbering troop transports, all arranged in single file, made for easy targets. Their ships were being eviscerated.

"Abandon ship! Abandon ship!" Quixotic cried as he jumped overboard. His compatriots quickly followed him into the cold waters of the Sunken River.

As Austin looked around, he saw that they were not the only ones who abandoned ship. Most of their soldiers were also swimming toward the shoreline.

They got out of the water and turned to survey the damage done to their ships; it was massive. Most of the ships were sunk or in the process of sinking. A few of the smaller ones had managed to evade some cannon fire, but they would soon be taken down as well. A cannonball shot past Quixotic, narrowly missing his head but striking the man behind him straight in the stomach. He traced the path of the projectile, and he saw similar blasts of light coming from the settlement up ahead.

The four of them crouched behind a small pile of rocks as cannonballs sailed overhead. Their men desperately tried to find cover, hoping that the rain of artillery fire would miss them.

"Where did they hide their artillery?" Nitesco asked. "We're getting slaughtered!"

"The cannons are up the hill, in the settlement. They think we won't attack them there, but they are _dead_ wrong." Quixotic raised his sword, but Nitesco grabbed his arm.

"But the civilians! They could be…"

"Better a few civilians than our entire fighting force! Come on boys, we can still make it out alive!" Quixotic raised his sword, and charged, out into the fray.

The rest of the men massed behind him rather quickly, advancing valiantly toward Pollination. They charged through the rather sparsely manned artillery in the tree line and toward the town, from which they were still barraged by cannon fire. The forces there rose to meet them, and they became locked in battle.

From afar, Inferno watched as the rebels laid siege to Pollination in a desperate, final gasp of defiance. Normally, he would be slightly exasperated, but relieved by their final demise.

Not now, though. Inferno was _livid_.

He stormed through the halls of the castle, his castle, that he had unwisely handed over to Celtic. That two-timing, conniving son of a bitch. He had defied Inferno and cost his town—his birthplace—innocent lives. For that, he would pay.

He walked down the hall, encountering his servant Samurai standing and looking out the window. Samurai turned to his master; his expression was equally grave.

"You know what this means, Samurai?" Inferno said. The bodyguard nodded. "Go to the men," Inferno ordered. "Lead a counteroffensive and rescue the rebels."

The bodyguard nodded again and departed.

Inferno kicked open the door to the throne room, _his_ throne room. Celtic was speaking nonchalantly with Yukon and Vulpix. Inferno angrily marched up to them.

"CELTIC!" He cried loudly. Vulpix's eyes widened in fear, and Yukon groaned.

"Ah, shit. I knew this wasn't going to end well."

Inferno glared at him, utterly contemptuous, before returning his focus to Celtic, who looked concerned.

"Inferno? Is everything alright?"

Inferno's response was to grab Celtic by the collar and shove him against the wall. Yukon instinctively placed a hand on his flail, and Vulpix reluctantly drew his sword.

"You promised me. TWICE!" Inferno hissed. "And now my people pay for your treachery!"

"Inferno, stand down." Vulpix demanded. "Or we will use force."

Celtic waved them off. "It's alright, my friends. I understand his anger. But I'm also concerned. Are you going to endanger your future and the future of your country, over a couple of peasants? You can't be so foolish, can you? Just take a step back and think about your next actions. Carefully."

Inferno let a contemptuous grin entrench itself on his face. "It's a bit late for that. I couldn't, even if I wanted to."

Celtic sighed and furrowed his brow before meeting Inferno's steely gaze.

"So be it."

The Crosshares king felt Celtic's hands clasp his arms with his viselike grip, before he was thrown to the ground. He looked up and saw Celtic walking over to the throne, on which lied his battleaxe, while Yukon and Vulpix stood over him.

"You want him alive or dead?" Yukon asked.

Celtic chuckled. "Alive if you can, dead if you must."

Vulpix angled his sword at Inferno. "Please, surrender. I don't want to fight."

"Speak for yourself." Yukon interjected. "He is a traitor. And traitors must die. Face judgement!"

Yukon grabbed his flail and raised it up to strike. Inferno rolled out of the way just as it struck the pristine floor, leaving a small dent. Inferno's rapier launched forward, seemingly of its own accord, nearly slicing Yukon's neck. With his free hand, Yukon drew his sword and knocked it away from his face.

Celtic, now armed, rocketed forward and swung wildly, forcing the Crosshares king back, as Vulpix tried to knock him down. He managed to slide out of the way, taking a swipe at Celtic as he did so.

Yukon swung his flail around, hoping to ensnare Inferno or his sword. Inferno managed to dodge yet again, forcing Yukon to coil the flail around his arm to regain control.

Vulpix took his turn, launching into a duel with Inferno. They moved as mirror images; Inferno managed to block every swing, strike and swipe the general threw at him. Celtic took the opportunity to bash Inferno with the end of his battleaxe, sending him to the floor again. The three of them crowded around him, ensuring he could not recover again.

"Fool. No one betrays me and lives!" Celtic laughed.

Suddenly, a large explosion rattled the tower, and a cannonball sailed through a window, catching them off-guard and surprising them. Inferno took the opportunity to get up, and he knocked Yukon out of the way before opening the doors to the outside and fleeing. Celtic and Vulpix gave chase while Yukon got up from the floor.

The pair stopped in their tracks, as they saw the chaos that their carefully executed plan had devolved into. The Crosshares soldiers had marched into town to assist, but now they were engaged in a bloodbath just outside of it. It was anarchy. Their men were going to be slaughtered by the superior Crosshares force.

"Vulpix?" Celtic asked. "Gather the others. I'll commandeer what men I can and order a retreat. We've lost."

The general nodded gravely and walked back into the castle.

Down below, Inferno had leapt into the bloodbath, intent on finding the leaders of the Rowj League and explaining the predicament. As he charged recklessly into the fray, some of his unoccupied soldiers took up their arms and followed him.

He charged through the bloodbath, breaking through the back of Celtic's lines, miraculously unnoticed, and charged into the burning town. His men fanned out, intent on finding the Rowj leaders. At last, Inferno found the four of them, stationed on a dock.

Austin and Nitesco, if he remembered correctly, were barely able to stand, weakly clutching their swords in one hand as they cupped their wounds with their free hand. Quixotic seemed to be the most badly injured, with blood seeping through his clothes around his midsection. The one he didn't recognize, whose face was caked with as much soot as his own blood, stood in front of them. He pointed the tip of a broken spear at Inferno.

"My name is Gwydion, commander of the Rowj League, and I order you to surrender."

Inferno chuckled slightly, in spite of himself. He sheathed his rapier and began walking toward them.

"Men, I wish you no harm. I only want-"

"My liege!"

A squad of his men appeared behind him, armed to the teeth. They leveled their weapons at the four.

"Ah, shit." Inferno muttered under his breath. "Wait. I mean you…"

It was too late. The four of them had already dived off the dock in unison, into the water. Their heads disappeared as they dove in an effort to get out of the Crosshares soldiers' sight.

After getting some ways out, the commanders finally stopped and began treading water in an effort to stay afloat.

"Well, would you look at this. The great Quixotic Quail, commander of the Rowj armies, dies not at the hands of his enemies in battle, but in the freezing waters of the Sunken River. Damn it all."

"Damn. I think I'm bleeding to death." Nitesco groaned in pain and let himself float on his back. "I need to rest my eyes."

"Wait, guys, guys! Don't close your eyes! Don't fall asleep! Guys!" Gwydion pleaded.

"I think…I think we're a little past that, my friend." Austin mumbled tiredly as he began floating on his back.

"No, no! Shit. Help! Help!" Gwydion began crying for help, hoping someone would hear him. The only answer he received was the cold sound of the river's current washing against the shores.

"No…" He mumbled weakly, and he turned his face up to the stars.

* * *

Austin awoke to the sound of something bubbling. He sat up and took in his surroundings. He was in a small room, unfurnished except for four thin straw mattresses with blankets set over them. Two were cast aside, and under the third, Quixotic lay, snoring loudly. The veteran tried to stand, but a splitting pain in his chest caused him to cry out in pain.

Suddenly, Gwydion appeared in the doorway. He quickly ran over to Austin and gently laid him back down.

"Easy there. Don't move if it hurts too much."

Austin coughed, small droplets of blood escaping his mouth as he did so.

"Where are we? What happened?"

Gwydion gave him a small slice of bread and sat down next to him.

"I was crying for help last night, in the river. I attracted the attention of a fisherman. He rescued us and brought us back here."

"I see. And where is here, exactly?"

Gwydion smiled. "Why, Guns N' Roses, of course."

"Oh, fuck." Austin said, and he laid his head back down. Gwydion shrugged and left the room, leaving the old man alone with his thoughts.


	15. Chapter 15

It only took the quartet a few days to recover. After being taken care of by the kindly old fisherman, they set out to see what they could do to replenish their armies' numbers. They agreed to meet up outside Gibbous Rose cathedral with what recruits they gathered. Unsurprisingly, all came back empty-handed.

Nitesco sat down next to his teammates on a set of stairs. "This sucks."

"What's up?" Quixotic asked.

"I'm trying to recruit volunteers, but nobody wants to join us. Our numbers are too low right now for us to put up any sort of fight with more than a single platoon. We need people to join us, but I can't get anybody."

Austin sighed. "I'm having the same problem. Nobody has any enthusiasm for war; they don't have the willingness or desire to fight. Which is understandable, but if they don't fight they're all doomed. I've tried saying as much, but I suppose people don't respond well to pessimism." He rested his head on one of his hands and thought.

"We need someone they'll look up to," said Gwydion. "Somebody whose word is respected, revered, who people are glad to follow through thick and thin. But where could we find somebody like that?"

Quixotic shrugged. "The only people like that I can think of are clergymen, but I doubt that will help us here. We don't have any connections to Guns N' Roses religious organizations, so we won't be able to find that sort of help."

"Guns N' Roses religion…" Austin said to himself. Suddenly, his eyes went wide. He turned to Quixotic, who turned to him. The two whispered a few things back and forth, to the confusion of their teammates.

Finally, Austin spoke loudly enough for the entire group to hear. "Okay, I think this might work. It's crazy, but it might work. Quixotic, you go and find him some robes."

"I do know a few good robe places around here. I'll be back shortly." Quixotic walked quickly on his way, and then there were three.

"Gwydion," Austin said, "you go find a good platform one of us could speak from. Preferably in a very public area, like a market square."

"Alright, I'll see what I can do. I guess you can fill me in on what we're doing later." Gwydion went to seek out the perfect speaking spot, leaving Austin and Nitesco alone.

"Okay, what's going on?" Nitesco asked, somewhat worried. Austin grinned with unsettling excitement.

"Quixotic and I figured out a way we can attract volunteers. And the key to that is you, Nitesco. Your passion, your optimism, and your youthful energy, those are the things that will be the foundation of our resistance. You're going to make people not only willing, but eager to fight with us."

"But how am I going to do that? I couldn't even persuade a single person to join us, how can I—"

Austin cut him off. "Don't worry. There's a special way for us to get the support we need. I believe you can do this, as long as you don't let fear get the best of you. Now, here's the plan…"

An hour later, the stage was set. Nitesco stood overlooking Town Square, wearing a set of black and red robes that Gwydion had described as "snazzy." The clock struck five, and the hourly bells rang. Nitesco closed his eyes. He went over the most important lines he and Austin had come up with together and did what he could to calm his nerves. No fear, he thought. He remembered the last advice Austin had given him. Speak from the heart. Speak with the fire that comes from truth. Make yourself believe, and they'll believe too.

As the last ring of the bell echoed through the square Nitesco began his first speech to the masses.

"People of Guns N' Roses! Hear my words and understand! The Divine Roses wish to deliver a message of hope, and I am their voice!"

Watching from below, Austin and Quixotic couldn't stop grinning.

"This was a good idea."

"This was such a good idea."

Gwydion interjected. "Why is this such a good idea?"

"You might not have paid much attention to these matters when you lived here," Austin explained, "but the people of Guns N' Roses are very spiritual. However, they aren't too particular about the context of that spirituality. Different churches regularly compete for followers, and people are highly susceptible to conversion. We figured, why not throw ourselves into the mix? Perhaps this way we can get convince some pious individuals to join our ranks where we couldn't before."

Gwydion considered this for a moment. Then he nodded. "Yeah, this was a good idea."

As Nitesco's speech went on, he progressively drew more people into the listening crowd. His audience multiplied, from three to thirty to ninety. People broke from their normal routines to come and listen to what Nitesco had to say. He promised glory and great rewards for those who would stand and support the Roses, and that said Roses would bring about a future in which all would be happy and free. A future filled with Guns. A future filled with Roses. A future filled with Guns and Roses. The words he said drew their interest, but how he said them built their excitement. These people weren't used to such passionate speech, such eloquent words of apparent wisdom.

Nitesco had a gift.

He was allowed to speak unabated, as a few well-placed bribes from Quixotic had ensured that there would be no interference from city guards. Nitesco was able to make his sermon last a full two hours. Observers came and went, but there were always plenty of people listening. As people left, they found themselves approached by one of three men asking if they would be interested in supporting the movement Nitesco spoke of.

By the end of the day, the new religion of Team ANGQ had gathered a hundred followers, each of whom was ready and willing to seek out more. Soon, ANGQ could have an army with which to face the Council of Celtic. It seemed there was a chance for a true war. Once again, the four had hope for the future.

After the sermon ended and Nitesco had put normal-looking clothes back on, the four of them entered a tavern, taking a table in the back and ordering a round to celebrate their success as they prepared their next move. They laughed and bantered for an hour before Nitesco, unusually grim-faced, asked the question they were all thinking.

"Now what do we do? We have some followers, but we have to do more."

"I concur," Gwydion added. "We've made progress, but at this pace, Celtic will have the rest of the Subreddit under his control by the time we muster up half of what we had. Austin, do you have any ideas?"

Austin finished his pint before sighing deeply. "We need to boost our numbers further, quickly. I'll see if I can do something about that. Nitesco, you go find that old tavern you mentioned. See if you can't make some money there, we'll need it to buy supplies."

"By rigging the tables? Can do." He grinned and finished off his mug.

"Gwydion, go with him. If the owner gets suspicious, make sure Nitesco gets out of there alive."

Gwydion looked down at the table and cleared his throat. "Alright. I can do that."

"Fantastic. Quixotic, if you have any contacts in the city, talk to them. We need all the help we can get."

"I know just the person," Quixotic said, and he finished his drink. "I'll hit up the pigeon coops on the tavern down the street after another round."

"Very good. I'll work on getting an audience with the King of Guns N' Roses. Good luck to all of you," Austin said grimly, and he stood up and left, leaving the other three behind.

He went out into the streets, nervously pacing down the road to the castle. He passed by several guards who cast him cursory, curious glances. He clearly wasn't from around here, why was he going up the road to the castle?

The old man finally arrived at the portcullis of the great castle on top of the hill. He was approached by three tough-looking guards. One of them, the youngest one, looked at him with disdain and amusement. What business could he have with the King?

The oldest-looking soldier eyed Austin with curiosity. Perhaps they worked together at one point in time? It didn't matter.

The commanding officer stepped forward, completely impassive. He looked Austin up and down, a cursory security measure. He cleared his throat.

"My good sir, you arrive at Cargo Castle, the personal fortress and estate of King Frasian VI, Lord of the Realm, Joint Ruler of the people of the Gunnian and Rosian kingdoms, and Commander of the Red Legions. What is your business here?"

Austin's heart beat faster than he thought possible.

"I've come to turn myself in."

The youngest guard snickered disdainfully. "For what? Did you not attend the church service yesterday?"

The old man cleared his throat nervously. He sniffed.

"My name is Austin Rufus, former Vice Commander of the Red Legions, former Marshal of King Pykoh III and former Representative of Greater Gunnia in the people's assembly. Need I say more?"

The guards suddenly fell silent, and the blood drained from their faces. Austin, in spite of himself, wasn't able to suppress a smirk when he saw their reactions.

The lead guard procured a pair of handcuffs and attached them to Austin's wrists. As he did that, Austin began speaking again.

"I have three accomplices in the city. Quixotic Quail, Gwydion Forto and Nitesco Gaming. I will happily provide descriptions and possible locations for you."

The youngest guard opened the portcullis as the lead guard ushered him through. As they walked through the courtyard, his escort looked at him strangely.

"Why are you doing this? What do you seek to gain from this?"

Austin laughed. "Perhaps I felt guilty. You ever think of that?"

"Do you seek the King's death?" He jostled Austin roughly. "We're going to make sure you've no tricks up your sleeve."

"I would have it no other way." He feigned a confident smile. The guardsman merely shoved him, and he walked up the stairs to await his sentence.

* * *

Nitesco always made an effort not to show emotion when he played dice, Gwydion noted.

As Nitesco gripped the two dice between his knuckles, Gwydion thought he saw the slightest hint of a wry smirk appear on his face. The young Rosian threw the dice towards the right edge of the pit, his secret trick. They bounced off the edge, and the first one came to a stop. A two.

The second die continued bouncing across the pit before striking the barrier farthest from Nitesco and careening off that edge. At last, it came to a stop, and five dots stared straight up at the ceiling.

Nitesco cried out happily, and the few patrons still betting against him rustled through their pockets for what few coins Nitesco had left them with. Gwydion chuckled softly, amused.

All of a sudden, four soldiers abruptly kicked open the front doors of the tavern, swords already drawn. The owner hobbled over to them, raising his hands in a placating manner.

"Hey, hey. Easy fellas, the protection money's not due for another week."

The largest one shoved him aside and began scanning the crowd. He beckoned for his soldiers to fan out.

"I'm not here for your greasy protection money, you obese imbecile. I'm here for Nitesco Gaming and Gwydion Forto, who are charged as accessories to the murder of King Pykoh III."

One of the soldiers grabbed Nitesco, who was still hunched over the dice pit. He struggled against the guardsman's grip, but could not escape. He turned to Gwydion and cried out.

"Run! Run, Gwydion!"

Gwydion instantly backed away, slamming the back door open and escaping into the alley behind the tavern. He could hear soldiers yelling and sprinting footsteps as the men behind him gave chase. Gwydion rounded a bend and escaped into one of the main street. He dove into a large crowd of pedestrians, hoping to catch his pursuers off-guard.

His plan failed. One of the soldiers came out of the alley in front of him and struck him square in the stomach with his elbow. Gwydion collapsed to the ground in pain as two more soldiers stood over him.

"You should've just come with us in the first place," one of them said.

A fist came towards him. The world went black.

* * *

Quixotic sat on top of the roof of the Thorny Rose, the somewhat unpleasant tavern he had once visited with Nachbar some years prior. He didn't remember much, but he did distinctly remember having to fend off some offended smugglers whom he had tricked with counterfeit coins. The security did seem to be improved, he noted.

He chewed his nails a small bit, a nervous habit he had developed over the years, as he waited for the ink on the letter he had written to dry. Quixotic coughed dryly; the air was much too cold up here in the highlands, he thought. He sat down on a small bench and looked over the letter.

 _Nachbar,_

 _I have safely escaped the massacre at Pollination and now take refuge in the city of Guns N' Roses. My fellow commanders are also safe, and we have already begun recruiting for our new army. We would greatly appreciate it if you could lend your assistance to our cause. If you decide to aid us, meet me in the courtyard behind Gibbous Rose cathedral sometime in the next three weeks._

 _\- Q.Q._

He nodded silently, noting how his penmanship had somewhat diminished over the months. He wrapped up the now-dry letter, sealed it, and attached it to a pigeon's leg, letting it fly away. As he watched it fly out into the distance, he heard the door to the roof open.

Quixotic turned around, expecting the owner to come out and ask what he was doing. Instead, he locked eyes with a particularly handsome Gunnian soldier. He debated whether or not to try and beguile him or play it safe. He decided to err on the side of safety.

"Hello, sir. Have I done something wrong?" Quixotic shrugged, trying to look innocent. He soldier, emotionless, beckoned for his guards to arrest him.

"Quixotic Quail, you are under arrest for conspiring to murder King Pykoh III. You are coming with us."

The soldiers grabbed him by the arms. He made a cursory attempt to wriggle free.

"Murder King Pykoh? I was a child when that happened. You know that's bullshit. Let me go."

The guardsman sighed. "I'm afraid I can't. Orders are orders. And unless you'd like to take a trip off the side of the roof, I suggest you go peacefully."

Quixotic took a peek off the edge. It was a long way down. "Fine." He huffed.

The guardsman nodded courteously to his men, and they began escorting him off the rooftop and to the court of the King.

* * *

When Gwydion came to, he was no longer in the street. His surroundings were well-furnished and decorated, and the light of numerous torches illuminated the surroundings, highlighting the black and red theme everything seemed to have. He looked around; to his left were his friends Austin, Nitesco and Quixotic, all kneeling and bound by chains. Upon trying to move his hands, he found he too was bound.

"Quixotic!" He whispered. "Where are we?"

"Austin managed to get us an audience with King Frasian. Unfortunately, he neglected to tell us he did that by confessing to King Pykoh's murder!" He hissed angrily.

"Technically, I did not confess."

"Does that really make a difference?" Nitesco shot back. "We're still probably going to be-"

From the side, he heard a large door open and shut, and a man walked forward. He was dressed in black and red robes, almost identical to the ones Nitesco wore when he proselytized to the people of Guns N' Roses. He took a seat on the throne and drummed his fingers on the arm.

"Austin Rufus. How long has it been? I was a mere boy when you murdered my father."

All three of the younger commanders shot Austin a worried look. The old man shrugged sheepishly.

"I must say, I am surprised you came forth after all these years. However, I recognize that you must have had an ulterior motive. How much of a fool do you think I am? These men weren't even alive when you murdered my father and his advisors!"

Austin shrugged. "I recognize you hold a grudge against me. I understand, really, I do. But I only acquired this meeting to speak with you. It is imperative that we arrive at an understanding."

"Understanding?!" Frasian bellowed as he stood up. "I should have you thrown into the oubliette! You are a murderer and a manipulator, and worst of all, you have wasted my time! Guards!" He cried.

"Throw the old man into the oubliette. As for these three, release them."

"Wait," said Nitesco. He stood up as nonthreateningly as he could. "Austin's right. Guilty or not, we have to speak with you. It's about Celtic."

Frasian laughed. "Celtic? That menace? He is nothing more than a common opportunist. He wages war beyond the mountains, so it is not our problem. His rebellion is doomed anyways."

Quixotic spoke up. "No, sir. As of the moment, it is fractured, but he is still winning. He has Heroa and Villainia under his thumb, and he moves against resistance in Rubia and Junipera. He seeks to control the entire Subreddit and reform the current system to his whims. How long do you think he will stay beyond the mountains?"

"Guns N' Roses is neutral! We pose no threat to him."

"Not yet," Gwydion interjected. "But you will. When there's nobody left to resist him, he will take the colonies, the neutral countries and the republics. Do you think there will be anybody left to resist then?"

Frasian sighed. "No, perhaps not. But what do you four have to do with this fight?"

Gwydion smirked. "As a matter of fact, we were the commanders of the Rowj League."

Frasian frowned. "Which is now disbanded. I have heard of you, and how you defeated General Vulpix at Jaunerrha Citadel. Fine. Let's say I lend you some of my men. Then what? Will you fight off Celtic using only those soldiers?"

"No," Nitesco clarified. "All we need to do is show the world that we still draw breath, and those who seek to resist Celtic and his vile Council will rally behind us. We only need a legion or two to back up our claims. The rest will work out on its own."

Frasian sat back down and sighed.

"Captain, please escort these men to the diplomat's quarters. Keep them under heavy guard until morning. I will be considering their offer."

"Thank the Goddesses," Quixotic mumbled. Gwydion and Nitesco silently thanked their deities as they were escorted away.

As they walked by the King, Austin stopped and turned to Frasian, with a deep look of regret in his eyes. He sighed.

"For the record, I'm sorry. I really am."

The King stared at him. "Would you change it, if you could?"

"Knowing what I know now, no. I hope you understand."

Frasian nodded and waved him away. Austin followed his co-commanders to their quarters and left the King alone in his throne room.

* * *

Nachbar walked through the camp, somewhat unnerved. Celtic had summoned him for a private meeting. He was worried. His master was a staunch legalist; beneath the façade of friendship lied a secret disdain for men like him. Nachbar knew that as soon as Celtic won the war, he would be imprisoned, or worse. Knowing Celtic, probably worse.

He pushed aside the flap of Celtic's tent. Inside, he was having a game of cards with Greatness and Jokey. Celtic and Jokey had looks of concern, and Greatness was struggling to suppress a grin. Celtic looked up from his cards and nodded at Nachbar while Greatness took the opportunity to peek at Celtic's cards.

"Good morning, Peter. How are you?"

"A bit tired," Nachbar said as he stifled a yawn. "Where's the rest of the Council?"

Greatness turned his attention to Nachbar as well. "Oh, yeah. Yukon went off to inspect Maker's new toxins and see if his men can use any. I haven't seen Vulpix all morning, but he's probably brooding about…" He was cut off as Celtic elbowed him in the ribs.

"It's rude to gossip, Magnus." The mercenary grimaced as Celtic stood up and pulled a letter from out of his pocket.

"We intercepted this a few hours ago. It's from someone known as Q.Q., and it's addressed to you. What is the significance of this?" Nachbar glanced over the letter. The handwriting matched Quixotic's, though its quality had decreased noticeably. After a few moments, he handed it back to Celtic.

"My agent Quixotic, as you'll recall, is one of the leaders of the Rowj rebellion. He still thinks I'm on his side."

Jokey stroked his chin pensively. "I remember him. Yes, this gives us a unique opportunity. We can ambush them at Guns N' Roses and end this once and for all."

"There's still the problem of Inferno," Celtic said, "but yes. We will vanquish them there." He turned to Nachbar. "We'll formulate a plan later. In the meantime, if you see Yukon, Vulpix or Maker, tell them to get over here. I've got a lucky streak right now, and Maker still owes me fifteen ducats."

Nachbar nodded and exited the tent. As he turned the corner, he noticed a wiry little man, a scout by the looks of it, eavesdropping on the tent. The scout quickly looked around and ducked out of sight.

Nachbar smirked and walked away.

The soft sounds of the river echoed through the silent castle that was currently inhabited by Inferno, Samurai and his most trusted soldiers. Inferno sat, pensive, on his throne with his hands folded into a steeple. He heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," Inferno instructed.

Samurai and a small, wiry little man walked in through the doors. The little man bowed as Samurai leaned against a pillar which bore the marks of Celtic's axe.

"My liege, I have something to report. Celtic and his forces are mobilizing. Almost all available forces are being called to converge outside the Rosian Pass. They plan to march on Guns N' Roses."

Inferno cocked his head. "Guns N' Roses? Why? They're neutral, and they don't pose any threat."

"The Rowj commanders are alive and well, and are hiding within the capital. Celtic wants to eliminate them before they can amass another resistance."

"Thank you," Inferno said as he beckoned to the open door. "You may leave now. I must discuss this with my advisors."

"And my compensation?" Asked the little man.

"You will be well compensated, in due time. Right now, I must strategize." The spy furrowed his brow, disappointed, and exited the throne room.

Inferno leaned over, contemplating his odds of victory. Samurai advanced toward him.

"My liege, are you sure you want to do this? We stand to lose a lot of good men."

Inferno pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, we do. But we can also gain critical new allies. With the former Rowj commanders on our side, we gain legitimacy in our fight against Celtic, not to mention their leadership abilities."

The bodyguard sighed with exasperation. "You've already decided, haven't you?"

"Indeed. Ready the men! Tell them we march for Guns N' Roses!"

Samurai nodded and departed to ready the men for war.


	16. Chapter 16

The days passed quickly for the four leaders as they strategized in King Frasian's castle, poring over maps and statistics. Austin and Nitesco met with lords and vassals from Frasian's court, while Quixotic called in any favors he could from local contacts. Gwydion handled the logistics, sometimes remaining in his room working for nearly the entirety of a day. Eventually, Nitesco convinced everyone to take a small break and recuperate in their rooms.

Gwydion and Nitesco returned from a short lunch break in the city to find Austin sitting at his desk, reading a book. Nitesco plopped down on the bed and Gwydion pulled up a chair next to Austin and began reading over his shoulder.

"What have you got there?" Gwydion asked as he took a bite out of a small pastry.

Austin closed the book, revealing the cover. On it, large golden letters spelled out the title: The Divine Testament.

"It's the religious text of Cargoanity, the majority religion in this Kingdom. I've never been a very devout Cargoan, but it reminds me of better times. Coincidentally, I was just wrapping up the Book of Nitesco."

"Fun fact: I was named after a Cargoan prophet, but I'm actually a Yurist," Nitesco said. "My parents belonged to a small Yurist church on the river. Guns N' Roses is quite tolerant compared to the rest of the Subreddit."

Gwydion shrugged in assent. "I suppose. Man, you Gunnians have quite the culture. I don't remember it being this complicated when I last visited."

"Actually, I'm a Rosian." Nitesco corrected him. "Austin's a Gunnian. Outside the borders, the two are used interchangeably, but here it's a faux pas to confuse the two."

Seeing Gwydion's confused look, Austin clarified. "The two are different ethnic groups. Gunnians originate in the Gun Mountains or the highlands around them. Rosians originate in the Rose Plains on the riverbank, so named for the uniquely colored roses that grow in the area. It's a common misconception."

As Gwydion nodded and soaked in this new information, Quixotic walked in and sat down on the bed next to Nitesco.

"Any news from Frasian?" Austin asked.

"The Representative of Paraphil has pledged his support, but the Countess of Greater Gunnia has taken issue with your claims. She wishes to speak with you in person."

"Charlotte? I haven't seen her since she was a little girl." Austin reminisced. "Very well. When can I speak with her?"

"Sometime this evening, I believe. Speaking of, I should go down to the city to meet with my contact, Nachbar, in about fifteen minutes. The time's almost two, yes?"

Gwydion nodded. Nitesco sat up and rose from the bed.

"I'll go with you. I'd like to meet this fellow of yours. If he's as vital as you say, I'd like to make a good impression."

"Sure. Shall we leave now? I'd like to be there a few minutes early."

Quixotic and Nitesco stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Austin and Gwydion behind. Gwydion rested his head on his hand and Austin returned to shuffling through piles of papers.

"So, what have you got there?" Gwydion spoke up.

"Intelligence reports on all of Celtic's Council. Edward Yukon Nyberg, Octavia Selene Breath, Aidan Celtic of the Crownlands, Jokey von Zockey, Chaos Vulpix, Magnus of the 942nd. Names, origins. Quite intriguing, and useful."

A knock on the door ended their conversation. Standing in the doorway was the captain of Frasian's guard.

"The King has summoned you. He says this is a matter of great importance."

Austin and Gwydion exchanged curious glances before standing up and following her.

The hallways of the castle were ominously lit, almost purposely so. After some walking down the winding corridors, which never failed to disorient Austin, they arrived at the throne room.

Frasian sat in his chair looking rather pompous. In front of him, five men were tied up, looking down at the ground. Gwydion shot an inquisitive look at Frasian, who smiled.

"Gentlemen, these fine fellows approached the front gates about twenty minutes ago. They called for an audience with you four. He says it's urgent, but seeing as how two of you have already left, he'll have to convey it to you. Speak!"

The one in the center raised his head. "Hello, my friends."

It was Inferno of Crosshares. He looked up at them sheepishly.

"Sorry about this," he continued. "I would have preferred to talk in a better situation, but I must speak now."

"How do we know we can trust you?" Gwydion asked, voicing everyone's thoughts.

"Celtic has gone too far. He is too willing to destroy innocent lives in his reckless pursuit of power. He must be stopped. At Pollination, I did not seek to kill you, but you jumped off the docks before I could explain myself." Inferno paused and took a breath before delivering the news:

"An attack is imminent. My armies have massed behind the bluffs south of the city. Celtic plans to destroy the city and everyone in it. My forces can hold them off, but we must evacuate!"

Frasian laughed. "Do you really think we're so stupid? I won't fall for this. Will you, Austin?"

Austin stroked his chin. "Tell us more," he demanded. Frasian rolled his eyes.

"He has sent his spymaster to the city to flush you four out, make you vulnerable. When the other two come back, tell them that a man named Peter Nachbar is not to be trusted."

Austin gasped. "Nachbar? Isn't that the name of Quixotic's contact?" Gwydion nodded gravely.

"Yes. He's had Quixotic under his thumb for some time. My spies tell me that he's told Nachbar of your survival and location. And I know for a fact that Quixotic killed Jaeger on Nachbar's orders."

"Jaeger?" Gwydion gasped. Austin thought back on the moment Quixotic emerged from the woods, soaked in blood and bearing Jaeger's sword. He sighed and shook his head.

"It all makes so much sense. He's been tricked by Nachbar."

"Or he's a spy and Nachbar was keeping an ace up his sleeve," Gwydion said.

"Maybe, maybe not." Inferno spoke up. "Nachbar's a slippery little bastard, it wouldn't surprise me. Right now, you need to get everyone out of the city. Find Quixotic and Nitesco and leave before harm comes to you."

"That's the thing," Gwydion said. "Those two have already left to meet with Nachbar."

"Then we have to stop them. Frasian, cut Inferno and his men loose, but keep an eye on them. We must intercept Nachbar!"

Austin and Gwydion promptly sprinted out the castle doors, hoping to find their friends before their enemies could.

* * *

Quixotic and Nitesco calmly strolled through the city, trying to navigate the still-unfamiliar streets. After a couple of wrong turns, they arrived in the courtyard, which was empty save for a few old people sitting on the benches. Quixotic furrowed his brow.

"Hmph. He's usually punctual. You go in the cathedral, see if he's there. He'll probably be wearing a black and red cloak. I'll wait out here." Nitesco nodded and went up the stairs into the church. As he walked inside, loud organ music and the powerful smell of incense instantly magnified and assaulted his senses. Trying to ignore the mind-numbing sensation, he walked around the cathedral, scanning the crowds for a man in a black and red cloak, but surprisingly found none. Dissatisfied, he walked out the front entrance and back to the courtyard, where he saw Peter and Quixotic standing in a pavilion opposite the church, facing the castle.

"It's good to see you again, Peter."

"And you as well, my friend."

Nitesco walked over to them, planning to insert himself into the conversation.

"Good work with Jaeger, by the way."

The young man stopped in his tracks, suddenly suspicious. What did he mean, with Jaeger? He slowed, silently creeping up on them.

Quixotic sighed. "It was regrettable, but necessary. He was a traitor to the cause."

Nitesco stifled a gasp. Quixotic, a traitor? What cause did he speak of?

All of a sudden, he heard the rattling of chains behind him. Nitesco turned around, expecting a priest. He saw one, but the priest wasn't Cargoan.

The one who wore a wolf skull stared at him. Underneath the unsettling mask, Nitesco sensed he was smiling.

"Well, well. Look what we have here."

Nitesco reached for his sword, but Yukon was on top of him before he could pull it out of its scabbard. Instantly, the chains of a flail were wrapped around his throat. He attempted to escape, but Yukon merely pulled harder on the chains.

The commotion prompted Quixotic and Nachbar to turn around. Quixotic, seeing his friend at the mercy of one of Celtic's commanders, reached for his sword. In response, Nachbar drew Quixotic's old dagger, complete with his initials and the scuff marks of Jaeger's serrated blade, and held it to his pupil's throat. "Stand down, Quixotic. We wouldn't want this to end too violently."

Nitesco glared accusatorily at his friend. Quixotic looked at Nachbar, bewildered.

"You killed Jaeger?" Nitesco asked. His eyes were wet with betrayal.

Nachbar grinned and seized the opportunity.

"Oh, yes." He turned the blade so Nitesco could see the unmistakable scuff marks on Quixotic's dagger. "He's been working with us for some time. He told me you and those other two buffoons had survived that scuffle at Pollination. He isolated Jaeger and killed him on my orders. He even supplied me with a map of Bumblebee's defenses, which was very helpful for us. Really, we couldn't have gotten this far without him."

"Nitesco," Quixotic pleaded. "It's not true. I didn't know-"

Nachbar cut him off with a condescending laugh. "Tisk tisk, Quixotic." He addressed Nitesco. "It seems he actually cares for you. He never could master his emotions."

"He may be a traitor," Nitesco angrily said. "But that doesn't change the fact that you're surrounded. Guns N' Roses has joined with us. Soon enough, we'll kill you and this pathetic _rat._ "

Quixotic winced upon hearing Nitesco's harsh words, but Yukon cackled wickedly.

"Oh, I wouldn't count on that. You see, we organized an attack on the city some weeks ago, and it was scheduled to begin at precisely 2:05. And that is just about now, I believe."

Almost on cue, a large section of the city walls exploded, raining debris and ash down on the unfortunate civilians below. Yukon snickered again.

"Well, well. I did not expect that to be so well timed."

Nachbar turned his attention to the commotion, watching as another section of the wall crumbled down. Quixotic, noticing an opportunity, grabbed Nachbar's arm and threw him down the pavilion steps. He collided with Yukon and Nitesco, sending them backwards and allowing Nitesco to ungracefully wriggle free of Yukon's chains. He quickly got up and sprinted away.

"Go, Yukon! Get the boy, I'll deal with Quixotic." Yukon nodded and ran after Nitesco.

Quixotic drew Jaeger's blade and pointed it at Nachbar, who quickly snatched up the dagger and pointed it at his pupil.

"Ah, Quixotic. So naïve. So easily manipulated. How long did it take you to rationalize Jaeger's death? A week? Two? Or perhaps it was even less. You always were too emotional." He and his former minion circled each other like buzzards over a carcass.

"Why did you do this?" Quixotic asked wearily. "What's the point?" Nachbar lunged forward, only to be swiftly parried by Quixotic. Quixotic kicked him, sending him into a bench before bringing his sword down onto it. Peter narrowly dodged the strike and somersaulted away before recovering.

"What's the point? Has it ever changed? Profit!" He laughed loudly. Quixotic fell into a blind rage, widely sweeping and swinging at Nachbar, who deflected his strikes easily.

"Profit? Profit?! You helped a tyrant destroy thousands of innocent lives for profit?!" He screamed and attempted an overhead slash, but Nachbar swiped at his stomach and kicked him back.

"Well, what else is there in this dreary existence of ours? I don't know about you, but I know the truth: this life is all we have. There are no goddesses, no spirits, no final weighings. There's nothing. And the rest of them know it too. Celtic knows it. Vulpix knows it. Jokey, Maker. Hell, even Yukon knows it, though he can't ever say it. But they don't embrace the truth."

Quixotic tried an underhand slash, but his sword was knocked away. Peter continued monologuing.

"They try to make order where there can only be chaos. They try to build when things will inevitably fall to ruin. Sure, they can spring their traps and sing their songs about mankind and its woes. Doesn't bother me any. But at the end of the day, the only thing we bring with us is what we did for ourselves. And when my time comes, I can leap in my grave laughing because there's nothing anybody can do to take away what I've built for myself."

"You're wrong," Quixotic said. "Celtic will kill you when you're not useful anymore."

"Let me deal with that. Now, my old pupil, lay back and I'll make it quick." He raised his sword to stab Quixotic.

Quixotic rolled out of the way, but Nachbar's dagger slashed his chest. He snatched Jaeger's sword and angled it at Nachbar. Behind his former master, a squad of Greatness' mercenaries appeared from the smoke. Realizing his disadvantage, Quixotic opted to flee.

As he narrowly escaped, he didn't bother to look back.

* * *

Yukon ran through the burning streets, ignoring the collapsing houses and the soldiers that were desperately trying to raise a defense. Two of them were up ahead; he merely drew his sword and swung at the unaware pair. They didn't matter, that insolent boy was a League commander!

He made a left turn, then a right, then a left. He found the brat standing over the corpse of an Arkos lancer, looking down on it in a stupor.

He raised his flail, preparing to cave in the child's skull with it. At the last second, Nitesco noticed and jumped to the side.

"Child." Yukon growled. "Give up."

"I'm afraid I can't do that. There's too much on the line." Nitesco raised his sword. "To arms!"

Yukon laughed chidingly. "You have spirit, boy. A pity you can't put it to good use."

The flail flew at Nitesco, seemingly of its own accord. Nitesco narrowly sidestepped the whirlwind of steel.

"Why must you do this? Why do you seek to destroy us?"

"Because the current order is corrupt. Because true power comes not from the people below, but from the ruler above."

Yukon slammed the flail into the wall of a house. Nitesco barely dodged it again.

"Republics, theocracies, feudal kingdoms. Their power comes from the people. But those people do not act towards one goal. They act for themselves, they disobey when it suits them. Disobedience causes corruption." Nitesco lunged at Yukon, only for him to grab his shield and block the strike.

"Even a King relies on the peasants to work for him, to feed him and clothe him and keep his realm safe. They act for themselves, and when subordinates act for themselves, corruption is born. Ambition, cowardice and disloyalty."

"So what?" Nitesco asked. "We should all be totally obedient? We should all surrender our humanity?"

"Not necessarily. But we must be united as one. Freedom to act is freedom to disobey. If all would join us, if all could bend the knee to King Celtic, if all would act as one toward the good of the realm instead of themselves, then we could have peace."

"You're insane."

"One cannot explain sight to the blind." He readied his flail. An arrow whizzed past him, striking another house. Yukon turned his attention to a lone Gunnian archer. The archer attempted to reload, but he was dead before he had the chance to do so.

Nitesco didn't even have to think. He ran. He turned the corner, not even giving a glance behind him as he sprinted through the battle back up to the castle.

* * *

Austin and Gwydion ran through the destruction. All around them, civilians sprinted with no direction, screaming and hollering as their homes burned to the ground. Another cannonball struck the walls, raising a cloud of debris and forcing them to take cover.

"We must find Nitesco and Quixotic!" Gwydion yelled.

"We should return to the castle and regroup there!" Austin yelled back. "They're my friends too, but if we're going to lead a counterattack, we need to get out of this alive!"

Another cannonball whizzed over their heads, missing them by mere centimeters. The pair ran back out into the main street. Around them, soldiers hacked away at each other, creating a river of red that ran down the road.

The pair ignored the fighting around them as they tried to make it back to the path to the castle. Suddenly, a cloud of gas erupted in front of them, seemingly from out of nowhere.

A woman descended from the rooftops and landed behind them. Next to her, a heavily armored man emerged from the smoke, wielding a large broadsword.

"Well, well. Look what we have here, Maker." Greatness laughed.

"Magnus," Gwydion growled.

The mercenary let a look of disappointment cross his face. "Hmm. Take all the fun out of the reveal, why don't you? Well, I don't think we have anything else to say to each other."

"That's right," Austin interjected as he drew his sword. "We don't. Turn back or face us."

"We'll choose the latter, thank you very much." The woman spoke.

"Hello, my name is…"

"Octavia Selene Breath, former court physician for the monarch of Bumblebee," Austin interrupted. "We know who you are."

Maker pouted slightly. "So you do know who I am. Please, for the short time we have left together, call me Maker."

"Very well, Maker." Gwydion drew his sword. "None of us are willing to back down, I take it?"

"I'm afraid not, Gwydion," Said Greatness. "Let's hope your swordsmanship has improved. You always were lacking, both as a soldier and a son."

Gwydion hissed and leapt at Greatness, who elbowed him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Austin charged toward Greatness. Maker, who had been waiting patiently for an opening, lunged at the veteran. Gwydion swiveled to shield his ally and Austin pressed his offensive on Greatness.

The fighting was fast-paced and intense. Greatness used size and reach to his advantage, keeping Austin at a distance while making swings at him. Austin, in turn, furiously dodged and parried Greatness and tried to create an opening where he could attack a weak point, keeping his opponent occupied with feints and slashes in the meantime. To an outside observer, it would seem as though the two were evenly matched, though each was sure that they had the upper hand.

Maker fought dynamically, dodging and parrying Gwydion's strikes while trying to put him off balance. Gwydion used a straightforward offensive approach that had limited effectiveness against Maker's unpredictable movements and agility. He was able to keep Maker occupied enough to prevent her from assisting Greatness, but each failed attack took away from his limited stamina.

Maker deflected another of Gwydion's strikes and knocked him to the ground, disarming him. She readied her wrist blades and leaned in to stab him.

"What a pity it has to end like this. I find such killing distasteful, most of the time." She grinned.

Gwydion, as a last resort to save himself, reached into his belt and pulled out his hand cannon.

Maker's face twisted with curiosity and fear as he pointed it at her. Realizing it was a weapon of some sort, she raised her left hand to block the strike.

The bullet struck one of the wrist blades, separating it from the rest of her gauntlet and drawing blood. She howled in pain and turned away, clutching her arm while Gwydion stood and grabbed his sword.

Greatness heard her cry, causing him to turn his head. Austin, seizing the opportunity, attempted to behead his opponent, but was narrowly deflected as Greatness noticed the attack in the nick of time. Greatness turned and cried out, calling a squad of Nuts and Dolts soldiers to his side.

Austin and Gwydion began backing up, knowing they were outnumbered and outclassed.

"Do you think we can get back to the castle?" Gwydion asked.

"Maybe," said Austin. "Probably not."

All of a sudden, three men on horseback broke through the wall of soldiers, relieving a couple of soldiers of their heads with their lances. They stopped in front of the two beleaguered combatants and one of them bowed his head.

"A pleasure to see you again," said Samurai. Gwydion couldn't help but grin.

"Well. I never thought you'd be here to our rescue."

Samurai laughed. "Circumstances change. Get to the castle. Assist my liege, if he's still there. We'll cover your escape."

"We thank you, Samurai. Gwydion, to the castle!" The two ran off as Samurai and his cavalry engaged the enemy commanders.

They made their way up the path to the castle, which was still held by Frasian's men. As they rounded a bend past the pub they celebrated at, Nitesco came up the perpendicular path and nearly ran into them.

"Guys!" He cried out thankfully. "You're alive!"

"Yes, we are," Austin responded. "Where's Quixotic?" Nitesco looked down sadly.

"Is he dead?" Gwydion asked bluntly. Nitesco clenched his fists.

"Worse. He's a traitor. His contact is Celtic's ally. They've been working together this whole time. He told them where to find us, where Bumblebee's defenses were weakest. He even killed Jaeger for them."

Austin sighed. "A great loss, but we can't dwell on that now. We must get to the castle and save Inferno and Frasian!" Nitesco gave him a puzzled look.

"No time to explain," Gwydion said. "We must press on!"

The castle was engaged in a bloodbath. Emberaldian and Night's Watch soldiers engaged the forces of Inferno and Frasian. They waded through the soldiers and made their way to the throne room.

Jokey and a few Arkosian knights were locked in battle with Inferno and Frasian's honor guard. Jokey held off both Inferno and Frasian, his tonfa spinning and whirling, deflecting each one's strikes.

Austin engaged some of Jokey's soldiers while Gwydion and Nitesco charged at Jokey. Jokey, not expecting this, was barely able to counter their strikes but managed to kick Gwydion in the stomach.

"Oho! The little brats have lived thus far!" Through the eyeholes of his mask, Nitesco could see he was smiling. "A fitting end, I must say. All these traitors die together!"

Nitesco howled and recklessly charged at him, but a swipe from Jokey's blade slashed his cheek and repelled him. Frasian and Inferno attempted a simultaneous attack, but the assassin somersaulted away and slashed Frasian in the back, sending him to the ground with a cry of pain. Gwydion, who had since recovered, attempted to strike Jokey as well, but was nearly blinded by his sword.

The remaining three dueled for some time, each of them wearing down Jokey's defenses. They forced him out into the middle of the hall, attempting to get other soldiers to assist them, but they were too busy to join in.

Austin, at last, entered the fray and managed to shove the tip of his blade into Jokey's lung. With a painful wheeze, Jokey fell backward, creating an opening in his defenses, and Nitesco slashed the metal filter of his mask. It started to fall off, and Jokey impatiently grasped at the leather top and pried it away from his head, casting it to the ground.

He attempted to keep up the defense, but the four quickly wore him down. He collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily and clutching the hole in his chest.

"Surrender," Nitesco demanded. Jokey sneered at him.

"I… wouldn't count on it," he said in his gravelly voice. Inferno raised his rapier to kill him.

An arrow flew past him, embedding itself in the velvet of Frasian's throne. They looked up to see who had fired it.

Vulpix lowered his crossbow. Beside him, Celtic and his elite guard brandished their weapons.

"Behold, the traitors!" He laughed deeply. "Such naïve fools, to think you could stand against my might. Though I must admit, it was exhilarating while it lasted."

"But all good things must come to an end. Men! Do away with these nuisances. The Subreddit must know we do not tolerate rebellion!"

"No!" cried Frasian, who was now standing. He leveled his sword at Celtic, despite the fact he was barely clinging to life. "Retreat, my friends. Men! Cover their escape!"

What remained of the honor guard charged at Celtic and his forces. Celtic growled and embedded his battle axe in the guard captain's head.

"After the traitors! They must not escape!"

The four of them ran through the halls of the castle, eventually finding the stairway that led outside. As they ran through the fields around the city, they saw what remained of Inferno's legions streaming out whatever exits they could. The city itself was completely engulfed in flames.

They sprinted as fast as they could over to where the retreating soldiers were massing. At last, they found Samurai leading the men, badly bruised and cut up, but alive.

"My liege!" He happily cried. "I would embrace you, but I'm afraid my intestines will fall out if I do."

Inferno lightly chuckled. "How many men escaped?"

"About half. We can call the reserve when we return to Crosshares."

Inferno nodded and turned to the equally weary trio behind him. "Well, it looks like you and I are in the same boat now. Sorry about, you know, being on Celtic's side."

Nitesco waved his hand, dismissing Inferno's apology and paying him little attention. He turned to look at the burning city. He stood silently for a moment, staring at the devastation Celtic's forces had caused. Austin and Gwydion joined him, and the three quietly faced the ongoing destruction.

Nitesco couldn't stop himself from sobbing.

"That's my home. That's my home, and, and it's, it's…" Nitesco fell to his knees and placed his head in his hands as he continued to weep. Austin sat down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Nitesco, look at me." Nitesco obliged, and saw that Austin was holding back tears of his own.

"We have to keep going," said Austin. "I know it's terrible. I know what we've lost. It hasn't quite sunk in yet, but I know I'm going to feel this later. It's going to hurt to think about this city. But we can't give up now. We have to keep going."

Gwydion knelt and added, "This is what we have to fight to stop. We can keep this from happening again to any other parts of the Subreddit. If we take down Celtic, more suffering like this will be prevented."

Nitesco didn't make eye contact. He simply nodded, stood up, and turned to address Inferno and Samurai, who had politely turned away to allow the three some privacy.

"We must escape Guns N' Roses. Do you have some horses we could use?"

Samurai beckoned to three vacant steeds, their saddles stained with blood.

"Let us go. Celtic's not won this war yet."

They got on their horses and rode away from the burning city with their new allies.


	17. Chapter 17

Inferno, accompanied by Samurai, walked through the muddy camp, weaving his way through the crowds of soldiers that had gathered there. Although he had been with the former leaders of the Rowj League for a little more than a week, there was still some awkwardness between them. They tried to keep out of each other's way, not because of animosity, but because none of them knew what to say.

He arrived outside their tent, which stood slightly taller than the rest of his soldier's tents. With an assuring glance from Samurai, he pushed open the tent flap.

Inside, Nitesco laid sullenly on his cot, facing the ceiling. Austin sat hunched over a portable desk Inferno had provided for him, and Gwydion sat cross-legged on the ground examining a sword. All three turned to the sound of the flap opening, laying their eyes on Inferno and Samurai. Inferno cleared his throat.

"Good morning, gentlemen."

Austin traded glances with Gwydion before returning his gaze to Inferno.

"Good morning, Inferno. What brings you here?"

The king moved further into the tent, allowing the flap to close behind him.

"I just wanted to talk."

Nitesco sat up. "About strategy?"

"Um, no. I just wanted to talk. To get to know you three a little better."

A moment of silence. Inferno cleared his throat again.

"Look. We can't just keep ignoring each other. We're in this fight together, and if we can't work as a team, then we'll never be able to defeat Celtic."

"So, what do you propose we do?" Gwydion asked.

"Tell me about yourselves. Tell me a secret and both Samurai and I will do the same. Now, who'd like to go first?"

Samurai raised his hand. Inferno lightly beckoned for him to speak.

"I once had an affair with Inferno's half-sister." Beneath his mask, a guilty grin crossed his face.

Inferno turned to Samurai with his mouth agape, shocked at this sudden revelation. Nitesco laughed heartily, and Gwydion chuckled. Even Austin let a grin grace his expression, though he was quick to try and hide it. Inferno shook his head and regained his composure.

"Well, I definitely wasn't expecting to hear that. I guess I'll follow up; I am a polytheist. Publicly, I embraced Yurism, as I was expected to, but I never gave up the ways I learned in Pollination. It's quite common there."

Austin stroked his chin. "Most interesting. I suppose I'll go next. I used to know Maker."

Receiving questioning looks from all present, he continued. "When I first entered Bumblebee, I was taken in by General Jaeger. I struck a bargain with him: state secrets in exchange for my life. While I was waiting for Jaeger to make a decision, I stayed in the castle. There, I met Maker."

Inferno stroked his chin contemplatively. "What was she like?"

Austin shrugged. "We didn't talk too much. She spent most of her time in the laboratory. If we did talk, it wasn't for very long. But we did have some interesting conversations. Then the Vespula coup happened and they placed Jillian Days, a minor noblewoman, on the throne in exchange for her compliance. I didn't see Maker after that."

Austin beckoned for either Gwydion or Nitesco to go. Nitesco volunteered.

"I'm not a native Rosian. My parents were expatriates from White Rose. Shortly before the Third Shipping War, a group of royalists rose up and tried to replace Kosa and his council with a scion of the Reiss bloodline. It did not go well. My parents were well-off merchants who publicly supported them, so when the revolution failed, they forged some identity documents for Guns N' Roses and fled. They settled in a farming village just off the coast of the river and became serfs. I was born six months later. I don't think either of them has stepped foot outside that village since."

Gwydion raised his hand.

"Greatness once saved my life."

He paused dramatically. Samurai cocked his head, interested.

"Well, go on."

"Near the end of the war, my father took me out into my first battle. I fought alongside my brothers and my friends, but I was separated from the bulk of the force. I was surrounded, and I thought I would die."

"Then, all of a sudden, Greatness charged into the fray and drove them off. When the battle ended, we rejoined my father's unit. We've not spoken of it since."

"Most interesting," Inferno said. He nodded, letting silence fill the air.

The silence was broken when a soldier barged into the tent. He was breathing heavily, ready to fall over. Nitesco hurriedly sat him down on his cot.

"What happened? What's wrong?"

Austin placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and shook him a little bit.

"Speak, boy. Time is of the essence."

He finally gathered enough breath to speak.

"There's a division of Night's Watch soldiers patrolling the area near the brook. They're heading this way. I think they saw me. What are we going to do?"

Inferno cleared his throat and extended his hand.

"Well, that sounds like trouble. What do you say, my fellow commanders? Shall we face this together?"

The trio hesitated. Finally, Gwydion walked over to the king and shook his hand.

"I think we shall. Nitesco, Austin, rally the men. We've got enemies to deal with."

The five went out and joined their men, ready to take on Celtic together.

* * *

The blunt sound of wood on wood awoke Vulpix from his deep slumber. He threw back the deep green covers, dressed himself and walked down the halls. Yukon's castle had a unique and intricate but slightly disorienting style to it, with important and often excessively violent scenes from Emberist texts carved into the walls and pillars in seemingly arbitrary locations. He walked down the hall and into the peristyle around the courtyard. Jokey and Greatness were engaged in a sparring match, with Yukon and Maker watching from the sidelines.

Jokey swung wildly with his two wooden tonfa, trying to knock his sparring opponent off balance or at least disorient him. Greatness proved to be of sterner stuff, however, when a swift duck and a stab to the abdomen left Jokey hunched over on the ground.

"Good goddess, Greatness," Maker scolded. "He still hasn't fully recovered. At least you didn't hit him in the chest this time." She stood Jokey up and sat him down on the bench, her left hand still shaking somewhat as she assessed the damage.

"Hello, everyone." Vulpix announced his presence.

"Good morning, my friend." Greatness beckoned for Vulpix to come over, inviting the general to sit next to him and Yukon.

"Good morning, Greatness. Yukon." He nodded to both of his friends as he sat down on the bench. "What's up with Jokey? I thought Maker healed the wound."

"Well, she repaired it as best she could," Yukon said. The three of them turned their attention to Maker, who was examining the bruises on Jokey's abdomen.

"I feel bad for the guy. It's been, what, a month since Guns N' Roses? That must have been some serious wound to take him down that many notches." Vulpix furrowed his brow.

"He took a sword to the lung, Chaos. It doesn't matter what shape you're in, that kills most men. He's lucky to have survived." Yukon looked away from Jokey, trying not to be too obvious.

"He used to be able to go toe to toe with Celtic," Greatness said. "Now he can't even beat me."

"I'm sure he'll make a full recovery. I'm not sure my soldiers can say the same." Vulpix lamented. "The Battle of Guns N' Roses was quite costly. I lost about two regiments and was forced to release the equivalent of a battalion of my men because they simply couldn't fight anymore."

Greatness pondered this. "Still, we made some gains. ANGQ or whatever their stupid little acronym was has been eliminated as a threat. The only thing left for us to destroy is Crosshares."

"That's not all," Yukon interjected. "Celtic's negotiated a pact with King Munkee the Outcast. With Iceberg on our side, we'll keep the Rubian rebels spinning their wheels in the dirt until we can finish the war with real threats, like the Villainian rebels or Inferno and his insipid nation. We'll have victory, and this land will finally enjoy peace."

"If you say so." Vulpix sighed, unconvinced.

They sat there for a little while. Maker finally let Jokey stand up, and he hobbled over to Greatness, training blades ready.

"Ready for round two, Greatness?" He tried to confidently laugh, but it degenerated into wheezing.

"Yeah, I'm going to pass. You're not in the condition to train." Jokey pouted slightly and returned to his seat.

"Well, this has been fun. Anybody for breakfast?" Yukon asked. There were murmurs of assent, and they all stood and began walking to the dining hall.

All of a sudden, Celtic walked into the courtyard, Nachbar walking at his side. He clapped his hands together.

"Good morning to you all," he said, a deceptively broad smile on his face.

"Good morning my liege. How did you find your lodgings?" Yukon asked.

"Just fine, though the architecture isn't quite my cup of tea."

"It's an acquired taste. The artwork was here before I ascended to rulership and I'm afraid it's here to stay."

Celtic grumbled a bit at this. "If you say so. I'd like a word with you and Maker. The rest of you may go to the dining hall."

Vulpix, Jokey and Greatness proceeded to the hall, beginning some friendly banter about yet another cards tournament. Nachbar turned down another hallway and skulked out of sight. Celtic led his two cohorts down another hallway, eventually turning into a small room and shutting the door behind them. He turned back to them, his face grim.

"My liege, why so dour? What do you wish to say?" Maker inquired.

"Have we displeased you?" Yukon asked, also curious.

"No, not at all. You have performed as expected. Above and beyond, even. The problem is, quite frankly, that we are losing this war."

"How?" Maker spoke up again.

"We do not have the manpower to carry on this war. We can keep subordinates and willing vassals on our side, but larger powers like Renora and Bumblebee are becoming contentious. Our projection of power is crumbling, falling through. We need to deal with these rebels before the rug is pulled out from under us."

"We have made alliances in Rubia to keep them occupied, but the illusion of control won't hold for much longer. Our campaigns have been costly, and the rebels are becoming more unified. And one name keeps hope in the hearts of our enemies that our movement will fail."

Yukon hesitantly cleared his throat. "Inferno?"

Celtic flew into a rage, his face contorting and becoming a brilliant crimson.

"Inferno! Inferno! Inferno! How that name vexes me! How that name spites me! That dirty, backstabbing, no-good son of a bitch! He is the reason for all our pain and suffering! Oh, what a fool I was to let him in on our plan!" Maker and Yukon were sure his head would burst.

"If I may be so bold, we did go behind his back and disobey his demands."

A single, bloodcurdling look from Celtic silenced Yukon immediately. He exhaled in an effort to calm himself.

"Inferno is the effectively the leader of the resistance against us. His victories, however small, inspire hope in the people. And that hope, in turn, inspires insubordination."

"Never mind team ANGQ, their days are over. Inferno is the mastermind, Inferno is my rival. If he dies, all hope of rebellion dies with him. If we can bring him down, if we can destroy him and his wretched, plague-ridden nation, then the people will be easier to pacify."

"That's all fine and good," Maker interjected. "But what do we have to do with this?"

"I was just getting to that. I am planning an assault on Inferno's capital. It will take some time to gather the manpower necessary, but I plan to take all non-essential troops and funnel them into this offensive. We must destroy him before it's too late. Maker, I need you to create some new toxins. Something hallucinogenic. Something that will pacify instead of kill. I want to use it against the people of Crosshares, so our casualties will be minimized."

The artificer nodded. "Understood, my liege. It will be done."

Yukon slowly raised his hand. "How do I fit in to all of this, if I may ask?"

"Yukon, I understand that this is asking a lot of you, but I am going to need you to stay behind in Villainia." He opened his mouth to object, but Celtic silenced him.

"The people of Villainia are strong willed, but I understand breaking the will to fight is your specialty. The rebels here grow ever stronger and worryingly large in number. I am afraid if we leave this region not administered by one of my trusted lieutenants, it will fall into anarchy. You know this place better than anybody I know. I will allow you to keep most of your troops to defend this realm."

Yukon huffed. "Very well, if I must. I was so looking forward to seeing his head on a pike."

Celtic laughed. "I'll get an artist to paint it. You can put it with the rest of the tasteless mosaics here." The three of them shared a laugh.

"Good talk, my friends. Oh, and before I forget, I'm challenging all my Council members to a card tournament later."

"Really?" Maker laughed. "Even Nachbar?"

"Ooh, perhaps not him. I don't trust him."

"Don't worry," Yukon remarked. "We won't need him much longer."

"I suppose. Now where the hell is the dining hall? You need a map to get around this place." Yukon stepped out of the room and led his comrades away from the room.

A door next to said room opened, and Nachbar stepped out, concerned.

"Won't need me anymore. Hmph!" He scoffed. "There's ways to figure that out."

The scoundrel stroked his chin as he followed them to the dining hall, plans and plots forming in his mind.

* * *

It had been difficult for Quixotic to accept his new lot in life.

After Guns N' Roses fell, he stayed in the forests, watching as the towers crumbled and the houses were consumed in flames. He camped out in the woods that night. He thought. A lot. How could he have stopped it? How could he make it up to his friends? Why did he trust Nachbar and not his instincts? Guilty questions swirled through his mind, questions for which he had no answers.

He managed to procure transportation to a nearby village, and he stayed there for a while, living in the back room of an inn in exchange for odd jobs and errands for the owner. Often, he would wake up in the middle of the night, awoken in sweat-soaked bedsheets from another nightmare. Occasionally, he would expect to see Nitesco, or perhaps Gwydion or Austin lying near him. He was met with a crushing sense of disappointment every time. He rode around the countryside of Guns N' Roses for about two months, seeing Celtic's grip on the region grow tighter and tighter. Because of him and his goddamned note, he constantly reminded himself.

He eventually got passage to Emberald, just across the river. There he hit up as many of Nachbar's agents and pigeon coops as he could, hoping to find some information to aid the resistance. What did it matter? It wasn't like they'd take him back, not after what he'd done, knowingly or not. He'd still fled, like a coward.

After another three months in Villainia, feeding bits of information to the resistance in exchange for shelter and money, Yukon cracked down violently on seditious behavior. The rebel cell Quixotic was working with was caught red-handed trying to assassinate the governor Celtic appointed for Tauradonna. What few members weren't killed in the attempt were brutally and publicly executed. He ran, again. This time to Crosshares, across another river.

He tried to pump information from one of Peter's informants in the region. When the boy refused, Quixotic silenced him.

Just another body to the pile, right?

Unfortunately, it drew Peter's attention.

Quixotic was returning to the small hovel he constructed for himself in a large forest just off the Crack River's shores, two small rabbits and a squirrel in his hands, when he heard a rustling in the bushes. Thinking it was another animal, he set down the bodies of the ones he already had and took aim.

Lo and behold, Peter S. Nachbar walked out of the bushes.

Without thinking, he drew his blade, which had become worn without repair over the last five months, and charged. Nachbar sidestepped him and pinned him to the ground.

"Easy there, my boy. I'm not here to hurt you."

Quixotic tried to struggle, but he was unable to escape Nachbar's grip.

"I'm here to propose a deal. But you must promise not to try and kill me if I let you up."

"Like I'm falling for that one again!" Quixotic exclaimed spitefully.

"Well, I could kill you here on the spot and get someone else to do it. But there's the matter of time, and you're the only one of my agents I know wouldn't rat me out to Celtic for his own gain. Now, promise."

Quixotic sighed. "Fine. I promise."

He felt the pressure on his back relieved. He stood.

"What do you want?"

Nachbar chuckled. "Right to the point, are we? You always were direct."

"What was that you said about time, Nachbar?"

"Fine," he scoffed. "Since you're in such a hurry. Obviously, you know that Yukon is cracking down on the resistance in Villainia."

"Yes," Quixotic scowled. "I saw it happen firsthand. My friends were flayed alive by the Governor of Tauradonna."

"But do you know why, pupil mine?"

Quixotic's silence prompted Nachbar to go on.

"Celtic is preparing for an assault on Inferno, to cut off the head of the resistance against him. But he's low on manpower, and he's siphoning from his lieutenant's forces to provide the men necessary. Yukon is trying to weed out as many dissidents as he can so that nobody will notice that his troops are disappearing."

"And what are you proposing?" Quixotic asked, impatient.

"I'm getting there. Yukon is without proper manpower, and Celtic still needs more time for his troops to gather and his lieutenant Maker to perfect her newest poison. The point is, Yukon's vulnerable. Without Yukon, Celtic loses Villainia. Then, ANGQ and Inferno can get them on their side. With the added manpower and without Celtic's expert on population control, your old friends can destroy him."

"And what do you get out of this?" Quixotic questioned him.

"A chance at redemption. And I get to live."

Quixotic scowled, but then nodded and pulled a small piece of parchment out of his side pouch. Nachbar retrieved a quill and a small container of ink and handed it to Quixotic. He sat down next to a tree stump and wrote for a little while. Once finished, he handed the quill and ink back to Peter.

"Alright. It's done. But where do I deliver this to?"

"Your friends are staying in the village just west of here. They're in the big villa on the hill." He turned away.

"It's good to see you again." He vanished into the foliage.

Quixotic took the moment to consider his actions, looking down on the letter as the ink dried on it.

If Nachbar was lying, his friends were screwed, and he was in an even worse place than before.

If Nachbar was telling the truth for once in his life, then the resistance stood to gain a valuable advantage and deal a serious blow to Celtic.

He decided that the rewards were worth the risk and struck out for the village.

After about a half-hour walk, he saw the village. It was quite cozy, but the villa on the hill overlooking it was absolutely magnificent. And no doubt crawling with guards.

He trekked up the hill, trying to find a way into the villa without arousing suspicion. He eventually found a large tree whose branch extended over the roof.

Bingo.

He crawled up the tree, across the exceptionally sturdy bough and jumped, landing on the rooftop with an audible clack. Fearing he alerted one of the guards, he quickly scanned his surroundings and ducked into a conveniently small window.

The hallway was devoid of guards, surprisingly. He crept down it and listened at each one of the doors.

"Oh, dear. You should have seen the look on that officer's face!" It sounded like Samurai. Strange. He had always come off as the stoic type.

"I wish I could have been there. Too bad I was out there covering your asses in the field!" More boisterous laugher. Nitesco's voice.

"I think we can all agree that seeing what was left of his security detail flee into the woods with their tails between their legs was the most gratifying part of that. Your move, Austin."

Inferno. They were playing, chess, perhaps? Inferno always came off more as a dice guy.

"Checkmate." He could hear Austin's smugness from the hall. "Damn!" Gwydion yelled. "Samurai's going to bankrupt me at this rate. I never bet on the right guy."

"Not my problem." Samurai chuckled.

Quixotic sighed, depressed. He slid the folded-up note under the door.

"Hang on. What's this?"

Footsteps. They grew closer. He ran down the hall and leapt out the window.

Nitesco opened the door. He looked both ways down the hallway. Nobody there. He picked up the note and closed the door behind him.

A somber smile crossed Quixotic's face. He jumped down from the rooftop and out of sight.


	18. Chapter 18

This was it.

The armies of Crosshares and some rebellious Villainians marched across the farmlands of Emberald, their target straight ahead. The shining city of Cimerald sat at the top of a large hill, forests on the other side of it, the spires of Yukon's castle standing tall above the hovels the burghers of the city called home. Inferno and Samurai stopped their horses, dismounting to speak with the former Rowj commanders, who were standing on a small hill overlooking the city.

"What's the plan?" Inferno asked.

"We march up to the gates and tell him to surrender." Nitesco responded, strangely cheerful.

"Hold on," said Samurai. "This is Yukon 'the Wolf' we're talking about here. Do we realistically expect him to do that?"

The five of them turned to look at the city. Yukon surely already knew they had arrived and he had likely already decided how to respond. "There's really no point," said Samurai. "You can do it if you wish. But in the end, we're going to have to blow this city to smithereens."

"Will his reinforcements arrive in time?" Gwydion inquired. He coughed a little and glanced around at the soldiers, making a mental estimate of their number.

"I doubt it. But we must be merciless in our assault. The sooner this is over, the sooner we can get Inferno and his men back to Crosshares to defend the capital. And we can't risk reinforcements arriving and disrupting the plan."

Nitesco shifted uncomfortably. "Do we have to kill civilians?"

"If it saves us time, then we will." Nitesco nodded sadly and looked away.

Inferno nodded slowly. "What is the plan?"

Gwydion spoke up. "No doubt his spies or scouts saw us coming. He probably has some legions hidden in the woods beyond. Inferno, Samurai. You will keep most of your legions and stay outside the walls. Use your artillery to make some openings in the defenses and if the Emberaldians attack, keep them from flanking us in the city. Understood?"

Samurai nodded. "And what will you three be doing?"

"We'll lead the charge into the city," Nitesco said. "If you can spare a few legions, it would be greatly appreciated. The Villainians in our employ are fierce but few, and even a few battalions could bolster our attack significantly."

"Nitesco will lead the charge into the economic district," Gwydion continued, "and Austin will take the residential area. I'll take the rest of the men and mop up behind them. We'll converge on Yukon's palace and, if luck serves us, take him down."

"We must move quickly, Gwydion." Austin warned. "This entire assault is pointless if we don't eliminate Yukon. We must use every possible advantage to win this. I'll go and grab the files Frasian gave us on Celtic's Council and read up on him. You four, go to the gates and make your demands known."

As Austin walked back to his tent to retrieve and skim Yukon's files, the other four commanders walked down the main path to the castle. The air itself seemed heavy, thick with tension and the late summer heat. At last, they arrived in front of the portcullis. A priest, decorated in ornate black-and-green robes, appeared on the walkway above them.

"Are you a representative of Yukon 'the Wolf'?" Inferno inquired, his voice booming powerfully.

"I am. Say your piece, traitor!" The priest practically spat out the words, disgust morphing his expression.

"We have come to take this city. Surrender, and you will be treated fairly!" Nitesco strained to project his voice as Inferno did so regally.

"And if we do not yield to your pathetic incursion?" The priest crossed his arms apprehensively.

Gwydion fired back. "Then we take it by force!"

The clergyman laughed imperiously. "Yukon has informed us that we are to defend this city to our last breaths! You will never conquer this city. Begone, you pathetic pretenders!"

At once, several archers lined up their shots and fired a wave of arrows at the four commanders. Instinctively, the four of them raised their shields, blocking most of the arrows that came their way. They walked backwards as quickly as they could as their men began bustling about, preparing to attack.

The four reached Inferno's tent. Samurai grabbed a small cloth and softly dabbed it on his side, where an arrow had skimmed him.

Austin emerged, sword at the ready.

"Did they surrender?" He asked sarcastically.

"What do you think, wiseass?" Samurai shot back. "Our soldiers will blow a hole in the walls soon enough. Then you'll have your opportunity to strike the head off of that smug snake."

A loud crack echoed out as a cannonball sailed over the plains and knocked out a large section of the walls. The bricks came thundering down, accompanied by a large cloud of dust and dirt. Gwydion sighed. "Looks like it's time to move, my friends. Good luck, and twenty ducats to the man who takes the head of 'the Wolf.'

"You're on!" Nitesco said, a bit of sadistic glee creeping into his voice. "Come, men! To arms! Down with Yukon! Down with the tyrant!" He leapt onto his horse and waved his sword around in the air before pointing it at the city, leading his men into a righteous fervor as they sprinted across the plains into the city.

The breach in the city's walls had grown larger by the time Nitesco arrived there with his men, large enough that his men could stream in with little to no delay. The merchant's stalls were abandoned, and the market square was filled equally with panicking civilians and Emberaldian soldiers.

With a blood-curdling cry, Nitesco charged straight into the marketplace, a catapult projectile narrowly missing him and striking a large fountain instead.

The young commander swung his blade wildly, taking down as many soldiers as he could, all the while being careful not to strike a civilian. His men, hardened and vengeful as they were, were much more indiscriminate, swinging at anyone not wearing their colors.

Nitesco felt his horse stumble and shake beneath him shortly before its legs gave out and it tumbled to the ground, rider and all. The commander grasped his sword and stood up, noticing an Emberaldian lancer whose spear was covered in his horse's blood. Without hesitation, Nitesco sliced off the tip of his opponent's weapon and embedded the tip of his blade in the lancer's gut. "No mercy!" He cried again, even though his men could not hear him. He wrenched his blade out of his opponent's stomach and followed his men through the burning city.

* * *

The city of Cimerald was almost completely demolished. Fire swept through the city, devouring everything in sight. The streets were slick with blood, and occasionally a stray trebuchet shot would whistle overhead and strike a random spot. Gwydion silently thanked whatever deity or deities existed that he was assigned to clean-up duty.

Most of the city's defenders were slain, surrounded by the bodies of Crosshares soldiers or Villainian rebels. He and the men with him walked through almost completely unmolested, save for a few stragglers that tried to ambush them from the rooftops or the alleyways. All the better, for he had few men to spare.

Finally, he found Austin and Nitesco, who were standing in the street opposite the castle approach, talking, giving orders to their men and planning the final push of their offensive. Nitesco looked up, breathed a sigh of relief and waved him over.

"Thank the Goddesses you're alive," he said. "We weren't sure if you would make it through. Yukon is a crafty bastard, I'll give him that."

"It's great that Gwydion's alive, but we must get down to business," Austin said hoarsely. "Most of the soldiers seem to be hunkered down in the castle. The road up the hill is seemingly undefended."

Gwydion furrowed his brow. "Meaning…?"

"I don't know. It could be that they're actually making their last stand in there. It could be that he's baiting us into a last, desperate trap. I don't know. But we must press on. And quickly too, before the fire traps us in the city." Austin coughed loudly, a bit of blood escaping as he did so.

"Very well. Shall we finish this?"

"Yes," Nitesco said, his face molding into a determined expression. "Let's make this tyrant pay."

The three beckoned for their soldiers to follow, and they began the ascent up the castle road. Unlike the neat, smoothly paved roads in the city, mosaics of vicious battle scenes graced the path, depicting Emberaldian heroes defeating their enemies in brutal ways. Nitesco had to admit, it made him somewhat uneasy.

The portcullis and the doors to the main keep laid in a pile of rubble, apparently demolished by a trebuchet shot. Not that it mattered to the commanders, they had to press on.

Emberaldian soldiers rushed about, manning positions on the castle walls and behind makeshift barricades of rubble and tables dragged out of the dining room. Yukon stood on the roof over the entrance to the great hall, scrutinizing his enemies.

"I must say, I never expected you to make it this far." He seemed calm, disturbingly so. His voice was loud but uninflected, and despite the clamor of battle around them, the three could hear him without straining.

"But you have done nothing if not defy my expectations. I never expected anybody to make it out of Bumblebee alive. I never expected that four common whelps could end up in the employ of General Kuchen Jaeger. I never expected that your resistance would amount to much. I never expected you would escape your friend's betrayal and the fall of Guns N' Roses. And I most certainly never expected you to lay siege to my capital, and yet, here we are."

"Save it, Yukon!" Nitesco cried. "Enough of your games! Let's finish this like men! To arms!"

Yukon laughed snidely, but beneath his dismissive demeanor, Austin detected hints of anger, confusion, perhaps even regret.

"Very well. Men! Do away with these nuisances!"

A rain of arrows fell upon the massing soldiers, bringing down about a dozen as Gwydion and Nitesco grabbed their shields and tried to protect both themselves and Austin. The soldiers behind the barricades funneled out and charged them.

The Crosshares soldiers and their commanders pressed the offensive; Nitesco eagerly darted between enemy soldiers, taking them by surprise and dispatching them. Austin kept up a steady assault and wore down his opponents while Gwydion found openings to exploit. The Emberaldians fought fiercely, but as Crosshares soldiers filed in to aid their fellows, the soldiers' resolve weakened. Some fled back into the castle, other preferred to stay and fight. The co-commanders led a few men past the barricades into the castle as most of their troops stayed outside to clear out the remaining Emberaldians.

The great hall was almost empty, stripped bare of most of its furniture to make the barricades in the courtyard. A few soldiers and warrior-priests stayed inside in a vain attempt to slow the invaders down. They provided little resistance.

"Spread out! Sweep the castle for survivors!" Gwydion bellowed directions to the men who elected to follow him into the citadel as they swarmed throughout the castle.

The trio sprinted throughout the fortress, becoming slightly disoriented by the strange layout, no doubt meant to deter intruders. At last, they found a staircase up to the roof.

Yukon was still standing up there, calm and collected, yet a cold rage emanated from him. At his side was a page, who looked utterly terrified.

"Edward Nyberg!" Austin cried. Yukon visibly flinched at the mention of his name. His page turned to look at him, recognizing the name as that of a criminal, a revolutionary from long ago.

"It looks as if my time has come," he said wearily, and he threw back his hood. The High Priest undid the leather strap on the back of his head and handed it to the page. Upon seeing his face, the servant jumped a little.

"Take that to Celtic." He turned to Austin, Nitesco and Gwydion, allowing them to see the full extent of the damage to his face. Strange runes crisscrossed his flesh, from the start of his hairline down to the bottom of his chin.

"Allow, if you will, my squire to leave. I'd like Celtic to have a memento of me."

Nitesco acquiesced and stepped aside, allowing the squire to flee down the stairs and out of the castle.

"Give up, Yukon," Gwydion said. "Surrender, call off your men, and you will be spared."

Yukon laughed, a deep, unhinged bellow escaping from his diaphragm before his false smile disappeared and a harsh expression replaced it.

"You think that after all that I've said, that I've done, that I've _sacrificed_ , that I'll just surrender? That I'll allow you parade me down the streets of your cities like a trophy? No. No! If I am to die, it will be here, on my terms."

"Please, Yukon. Don't do this." Nitesco attempted to reason with him. "There is no more need for death today."

"And what fate would await me if I cast down my arms and came with you? Death, all the same. But it would be in a cold cell somewhere remote, or at the gallows like a common criminal. I will die to those who are worthy to take my life, surrounded by everything I worked so hard to achieve, not rotting in a prison in a foreign land, not to the hemp of rope in an executioner's hand."

"Save it, Nitesco." Austin grumbled, ready to fight. "Let's finish this tyrant once and for all!"

Yukon began chuckling again; a bubbly, childish, deranged laugher overcame him.

"I am a tyrant," said Yukon. "I am a murderer. I am a drunkard, and a sadist and a deceiver. Hell, I don't even believe in my people's religion! But I am nothing if not a patriot. I am nothing if not a believer in the cause. It may be that I will die this day, but I will not go to the grave alone! Now, come, traitors! We dance with the reaper today!"

He unraveled his flail from his belt, swinging it in a wide circle and bringing it down onto the ground. Austin narrowly tackled Nitesco out of its path while Gwydion rolled away, attempting to flank the High Priest.

The blacksmith's blade rocketed forwards, about to pierce Yukon's side. Yukon was quick to block the attempted riposte with his shield, and he began to ravel his flail around his arm to strike back. Nitesco and Austin pressed the attack, but they were swiftly repelled. The battle commenced; the tired three tried to gain an advantage as they waltzed across the surprisingly spacious roof. Every time they thought they had the upper hand, Yukon would pull some trick out of his sleeve—a swift kick to the gut, a strike to the side from his shield, a slice from the backup dagger he had in his belt—and regained the upper hand.

Austin tried to knock Yukon's shield out of his hand, but was pushed back, unsuccessful. Seeing an opportunity, Nitesco tried to attack from behind, but another dirty kick to the groin sent him stumbling backwards. Gwydion stood up from his previous position on the ground and readied his weapon in a defensive stance, but Yukon wrapped the exceptionally long chain of his flail around it and prepared to yank it from his hand.

Austin seized the opportunity. With a single motion, he severed the chain of the flail and left Yukon momentarily defenseless. It was at that moment that fate chose to intervene: a stray trebuchet spot flew through the air and struck the castle below them. Nitesco, who had just stood back up, felt the brick beneath him crumble and give way, and he barely had time to clutch a stable outcropping to stop himself from falling into the great hall below, which was now in flames.

"Nitesco!" Austin cried out, but was swiftly silenced by Yukon's shield. He collapsed to the ground, motionless.

Gwydion howled, a deep, bellowing war cry, and charged. The High Priest attempted to block his swing, but the blow knocked his shield from his hand and sliced his stomach. Enraged, he unsheathed his dagger and plunged it into Gwydion's gut, watching with sadistic satisfaction as he collapsed to the ground. "And it seems that I have won after all," he laughed sadistically. Yukon picked up Gwydion's blade and turned his attention to Nitesco, who was struggling to bring himself back onto the roof.

"You are _nothing_ ," he hissed as he limped over to Nitesco, clutching the sword. "You think that you're doing something good for the world, but you're not. You're not special. You're not heroes. I see you for what you really are: runaways, castoffs and outcasts who dream of being something more. But you cannot stop us. Change is inevitable, and we are the force of change. You should have died at Guns N' Roses, like the rest of the pathetic people you failed to protect!" He raised his blade to strike, and Nitesco closed his eye, accepting his fate.

Gwydion intervened. He pulled Yukon's dagger out of the chainmail he wore under his robes and with one monumental effort, threw it into the High Priest's back.

The tyrant cried out and fell in, but grabbed Nitesco's foot on the way down. Nitesco yelped as the sudden added weight nearly pulled him in.

Yukon cried out: "If I burn, you burn with me!"

"NO!" Austin, having woken up, grabbed his sword and ran over to the edge of the hole. With one single, fluid motion, he plunged the tip of the blade into Yukon's heart.

Yukon's eyes widened, and the life drained from them. His grip weakened, and the tyrant fell silently into the raging inferno below.

Austin pulled Nitesco up, and Gwydion stood, holding the area where Yukon stabbed him.

"Guys, are you alright?" Austin asked. Nitesco silently nodded.

"We won't be if we don't get out of here," Gwydion said. "Come on, we have to leave!" Austin and Nitesco felt the structure weaken beneath them, and they took Gwydion's advice. They ran down the stairs, through a back exit, and through the burning city until they found a group of Crosshares soldiers.

From the hills outside the city, Inferno had a pleasant view of the retreating Emberaldians. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a division of his soldiers bringing Austin, Nitesco and Gwydion up to the camp. They were badly bruised and battered.

"My friends!" He cried out happily, fighting the urge to embrace them. "Did you do it? Is he dead?"

Gwydion nodded silently. A wide grin crossed Inferno's face, and Samurai walked up next to him.

"Good riddance to him. Samurai! My friend, we must celebrate this victory."

"I hate to be a downer," Samurai said. "But we really must get back to Crosshares. This victory means nothing if we lose the capital, and it's a two weeks' march."

Inferno sighed. "Very well, no celebrations." He turned to the injured co-commanders.

"But I would be remiss not to congratulate you for this. How about a glass of wine in my tent?"

"That sounds fantastic," Austin said. "And by the way, I'm twenty ducats richer."

Nitesco groaned. "Shit. I forgot about that. Can we deal with that later?"

Austin smiled. "Yes, my friend. Let's put that behind us for now and recuperate. We'll need our strength."

They entered Inferno's tent, and they laughed and celebrated until dusk.

* * *

Vulpix nervously walked through the halls of the castle, summoned by Celtic. How strange it was that here, his estate in Nuts and Dolts, he was not the superior, but rather the subordinate. It mattered little; if Celtic was angered, he had to be placated before he lashed out at his men, or worse, his lieutenants.

He pushed open the doors to the council room and was greeted by five equally concerned faces. Celtic sat at the opposite end, pensive and grim-faced. Even Jokey, who stood at his master's side, was unnerved. Vulpix took a seat.

"Now that Vulpix has arrived, my liege, why have you called us here?" Greatness asked, blunt as usual.

"Have we displeased you in some way?" Nachbar inquired. Celtic, in response, pulled out a medium-sized box. Maker and Nachbar, further from Celtic's chair, had to lean in to see it. He opened it, revealing a pristine wolf skull.

"Emberald has fallen. Yukon is dead."

Maker and Vulpix gasped simultaneously. Greatness closed his eyes and forcefully exhaled, while Jokey turned away, preferring not to look upon the mask. Nachbar sat up and looked about the room anxiously.

A great silence was ushered in as the councilman's eyes drifted over to the empty seat between Vulpix and Maker. They sat quietly for what seemed like an eternity.

"Now what?" Nachbar croaked.

Celtic's composure weakened, but he retained control and stood up.

"We have lost one of our members today. Our ally. Our friend. But we must not be weakened or demoralized. We must press on." Celtic paused and took a breath.

"We will avenge him on Inferno. We will exact retribution on his people. We will wipe his entire nation off the map." His voice cracked.

"Maker, I want you to make the toxin you are creating lethal. And excruciating."

She nodded. "It will be done, my liege."

"Greatness, Vulpix, gather the men. We strike at Crosshares immediately."

Greatness nodded. "Yes, my liege."

"Nachbar, use your informants to weaken Crosshares' defenses. I want casualties to be minimized."

"As you decree," the spymaster reluctantly responded.

"Yukon may be dead, but the cause is not. Prepare for war, my friends. Vengeance will be ours soon enough."


	19. Chapter 19

Austin and Nitesco nervously paced about the throne room, waiting for their compatriots to return. Nitesco stopped, leaned against one of the marble pillars and examined the room. Inferno's throne was rather nondescript, sitting on the back wall, across from the main entrance. On either side of it, two doors allowed a quick exit from the castle, if need be. Brown and yellow banners hung from the pillars, and the floor was a smooth white. Nitesco was sure that Austin would appreciate the simple, yet aesthetically pleasing design if he wasn't working himself into a panic. Gwydion entered the throne room, cradling four swords and a halberd, all newly repaired. Following him were Inferno and Samurai, who wore dire expressions.

"Inferno, Samurai," Austin greeted them. "Are our troops in position?"

"Yes." The king drew a small map out of his side ouch, unfolding it and showing to his co-commanders. They glanced across it; the city was in the middle, and waves of colored lines were drawn around it.

"So, what's the plan?" Nitesco asked.

"We've assigned Crossharese commanders to our legions," Samurai responded. "We felt they'd feel more comfortable taking orders from some of their own. We've taken some of the men who fought at Emberald and put them with your troops, here." He pointed at a particularly dense area of lines.

"The city's defenses are weakest there. I will join you in leading the defense."

"As will I." Inferno stepped forward, already eager for a fight.

"Hold on," Gwydion said. "Celtic's out for your head. The entire goal of this operation is to defend the city, but the people look up to you. Victory will be meaningless if you die. You should stay here, in the castle."

"I concur," Austin said. "You must remain alive, if not for strategic or political reasons, then to show Celtic that we are stronger than he thinks."

Samurai placed a hand on Inferno's shoulder. "It'll be fine. The men won't think any less of you if you stay here, nor will we."

"Very well," Inferno grumbled. "I shall remain behind, but I protest!"

All of a sudden, a scout burst into the throne room, panting and out of breath.

"It's Celtic!" He sputtered. "We spotted some of his forces just outside the vinery!"

"Then there's no time to lose," Nitesco said. "Come, my friends! Today we defend Crosshares!"

When they arrived, the battle had already begun, though it was no more than a skirmish at that point. The Crosshares soldiers were well-entrenched, and volleys of arrows were traded between each side, a show of force rather than a tactical maneuver.

"What's the plan?" Samurai turned to his fellows.

Austin stroked his chin. "There appears to be a small break in between each volley of arrows. They're likely not rotating their archers like we are, and if we can strike within that window, we can inflict heavy casualties."

Gwydion furrowed his brow. "Hold on. Celtic relies extensively on artillery and siege equipment during battles. He's likely moving them around our entrenchments and using the archers as a distraction."

"So we split our forces." Nitesco said. "If we order a direct attack, we can draw some of the forces defending the artillery into the main fields. That will leave the siege equipment vulnerable, and we can destroy both of his forces in one strike."

Samurai nodded. "You wait here. I'll rile up the men."

Samurai stood upon a tall rock, making sure that he was just below the reach of their enemies' arrows before raising his fist in the air.

"Brothers and sisters! Today we find ourselves under attack from the disreputable tyrant Celtic and his sadistic cronies! We cannot allow this city to fall, lest the last bastion of order and peace fall to darkness!" Inspired, the men began cheering.

"Celtic is a vile trickster. He is likely moving his backup forces behind the forests to take the city. On my command, all Villainian and Gunnian soldiers will follow me and my fellow co-commanders through the forests. The rest of you will follow Colonel Antred into the fields. Together, we will drive the tyrant back, and we will show our foes that we are not a nation to be trifled with!"

Another loud wave of cheers. Another volley of arrows narrowly missed Samurai's head.

"We will win this day! Soldiers, follow me!"

He stepped down from the rock and the men, now bloodthirsty and eager, followed behind him. Austin, Gwydion and Nitesco caught up to him.

"Did I do well?" He asked.

"Oh, yes. You were almost as good as me," Nitesco responded.

They chuckled, then slowly entered the forest. They crept around the trees, trying to locate Celtic's artillery. Sure enough, on the other side of the forest, concealed from most flanks' views, several soldiers were moving cannons up to the city walls.

Samurai stood, raising his halberd above his head. He paused dramatically.

"Charge!" He howled. The men shrieked like banshees and sprinted down the hills.

They were met by an explosion of a thick yellow gas. In the cloud, he saw the men writhe and gasp for air, contorting on the ground as they clawed at their throats. At last, death claimed them.

The remaining forces stopped and doubled back, trying to get away from the chaos unfolding in front of them. Celtic's men charged through the haze, their faces covered with a thick cloth.

Despite having the high ground, the Villainian soldiers were quickly overwhelmed by the charging Night's Watch forces. Some fled back through the forests, but others tried in vain to mount a defense.

"No! No! Damn that bastard! Damn his tricks!" Samurai screamed, cleaving the arm off of a particularly inexperienced soldier as he did so.

"It's no use!" Austin cried. "We must double back to the castle!"

Nitesco looked at him angrily. "We can't just leave our men to die!"

"If we don't leave, we'll die with them!" Gwydion countered.

"Then die you shall!" a voice exclaimed. Gwydion swung around, fear imprinted on his countenance. Behind him stood Jokey, mask pulled over his face, dressed in sleek black armor.

"You like the new armor? Maker fixed it up for me. Speaking of, she's wanted to meet you in person since you two met at Guns N' Roses." He laughed teasingly and turned his attention away from Gwydion.

"Ah, it seems my friends have arrived."

Three knights slowly advanced up the hill, each holding different, uniquely made weapons but all wearing identical, ornately detailed armor. The leveled their weapons at the commanders.

"And who might these fine gentlemen be?" Austin sarcastically inquired.

"The products of a new program Celtic made, just for you. He calls them the Night Guard. Some of Yukon's private guard, repurposed and trained by yours truly. Each one is more than capable of taking you on." He nodded to them.

"You have your orders. Bring the blacksmith in alive. Kill the rest."

Each one of the Night Guard lunged at a different commander. Samurai whirled around, trying to disable the one going for Austin, but Jokey cut him off before he could do anything. Samurai steadied himself, watching as his friends fled into the forests.

"Aww, your friends have left you to die!" Jokey laughed tauntingly as he charged, but each one of his whirling strikes was deflected by Samurai's broad, sweeping parries.

"I can't tell you how long I've waited for this, my dear friend!" Jokey swept at the bodyguard's legs, but he shifted backwards just in time.

"You talk too much." He struck Jokey in the chest with the blunt end of his weapon, sending him backwards. He quickly lunged back at Samurai, catching his gauntlet on the edge of Samurai's blade as he forced him against a tree.

Up close, Samurai could see the metal workings of Jokey's prosthetic. He looked back at Jokey.

"Nice hand," he taunted him. "Want the other to match?"

"You're welcome to try!" Jokey tried to go for Samurai's throat, but was repelled.

As their duel continued, Nitesco struggled against the Night Guard further into the forest. All of his attempts to close the distance between them were interrupted by his opponent's large spear. If he could just close the distance, he would be in business. But he couldn't close the distance.

The soldier lunged, barely missing Nitesco's eye but taking a chunk out of his ear. He rolled away and recovered, ready to quickly parry his opponent. The Guard, however, had gotten the spear stuck in a patch of thorns, and struggled to remove it.

An idea came into Nitesco's head. He grinned.

The Night Guard lunged again at Nitesco. Nitesco sidestepped it, but instead of rolling away, he grabbed it and yanked it forward. His opponent moved with it, and his stomach found itself on Nitesco's sword. The young commander wrenched it out of his opponent and ran off to help his friend.

Austin was having an equally difficult time. His opponent was a fencer, and every one of Austin's strikes was perfectly deflected. The Night Guard's offense was also impeccable, and the veteran had a hard time keeping up with him.

He felt a searing pain in his hip, finding that the edge of a rapier had struck him there. He stumbled to the ground and saw his opponent raise his blade to finish him off.

At the last moment, Nitesco drew his blade across the Guard's throat, and he collapsed in a heap. Austin breathed a sigh of relief.

"You couldn't have done that earlier?"

"I was a little busy too, you know." Nitesco extended a hand and helped Austin up.

"Do you know where Gwydion and Samurai are?"

Austin shook his head. "No." He winced.

"Are you hurt?"

"Not severely. Come, we must find the others."

They found Gwydion in combat with the last Night Guard. She swung wildly at him, two short blades keeping him off-balance. Despite this, he never let his guard down, receiving only glancing blows from his opponent.

Gwydion ducked under another swing and backed up against a tree. An idea suddenly struck him, and he reached for his hand cannon.

He brandished the weapon at the Night Guard, who visibly flinched and staggered at the sight of the weapon. Instead of firing it, he swung his sword upwards, lopping off her arm. She collapsed to the ground.

"Wow," said Gwydion, looking at the now-severed arm. "Looks like my weapon really came in _handy_."

The Night Guard groaned in agony.

"You know, you should consider yourself lucky. Not many people get to witness my signature _dis-arming_ technique."

The Night Guard groaned even louder, writhing in both physical and mental pain.

"I'll give you credit, though. This has probably been one of the most challenging fights I've been in, _hands_ -down—"

"Please," the Night Guard begged, "just kill me already."

The blacksmith obliged, ending the fight with a clean stab to the heart.

Gwydion looked up and around. His friends ran, or in Austin's case, limped, down the small hill, weapons out. Nitesco frowned, disappointed. "Pity. I thought we were going to save the day."

Austin grimaced again. "And now, I suppose, we'll go find Samurai?"

"No. I'll take you back to the entrenchments," Gwydion said. "Nitesco will go help Samurai." He turned to Nitesco.

"Are you alright with that?"

He was already gone. Gwydion shrugged, looped Austin's arm around his neck and began the trek back to the city's defenses.

Nitesco sprinted through the forest, finding that Samurai had held his own against Jokey. Both seemed weary, their movements slow and the pauses in the fighting somewhat lengthy, but they carried on.

The young Rosian howled and rushed at Jokey. Jokey cartwheeled away, but Samurai knocked him to the ground. The assassin stood again.

"I take it my minions have been dealt with?" He coughed, the raspy sound amplified by the mask he wore.

"More or less." Nitesco tauntingly grinned. Infuriated, Jokey swung at him, but his tonfa was knocked from his hand.

"I see we did a number on you at Guns N' Roses. The Jokey I saw before would have never let that happen."

"Don't get too cocky, kid." Samurai wheezed, amused and exhausted. "I softened him up for you." He turned to Jokey.

"Shall you finish him, or shall I?" Samurai asked.

Nitesco shrugged. "You did the work. I say you should do it."

Beneath his helmet, Samurai smiled. "Very well. I shall- hey."

Jokey had taken the opportunity to retrieve a small firework from his pouch and light it. He wheezed triumphantly and let it go, watching with satisfaction as it exploded and illuminated the cool evening air.

"A little trick I learned from Peter Nachbar. Reinforcements should be here any second now."

Jokey didn't even finish his sentence before soldiers came bounding through the trees behind him. He collapsed against the tree, prying his mask off as he did so.

"Say hello to Inferno for me."

The two were off, sprinting away as fast as their legs could carry them. After some time, they reached the entrenchments, which were now filled with several bodies.

Austin was sitting down, his would being attended to by a combat medic while Gwydion paced nervously to and fro. Upon seeing Nitesco and Samurai, he brightened up.

"My friends! Were you able to defeat Jokey?"

They shook their heads sadly. Gwydion resumed his pacing.

At last, Austin stood, his wound stitched up as best as the medic was able. "We must get back to the castle. We fight a losing battle."

Samurai looked around and sighed. "Very well. Follow me. There are a few secret passages into the city."

The four moved with haste towards the castle, prepared to mount a final, desperate defense.

* * *

Inferno sat in his throne room, staring out the window into the night. The only sources of light outside were the last rays of the setting sun and the fires in the fields started by wayward flaming arrows.

The palace was deathly silent. Most of his private guard were either on the front lines or manning the walls. The rest of the guardsmen, either too old or inexperienced, were posted near the passageways out of the city, ready to guide the people out of harm's way.

He heard footsteps outside his door. A single pair. Was it one of his friends returning with news of the fight? Was it one of Celtic's men, sent here to assassinate him? He stood up, ready to greet whoever entered.

The door opened. It was Nachbar.

"Hello, Inferno." The scoundrel said.

Inferno responded by drawing his sword. Peter held his hands up in an effort to placate him.

"Easy, easy. I didn't come to kill you. I just came to pay my respects, to thank you."

"Thank me?" Inferno asked, incredulous. "What reason do you have to thank me?"

"Because of you, Celtic cannot kill me. Before, I was nothing but a tool to him, something to be discarded when no longer needed. But you, you have inspired dissidence in an entire Subreddit. You have created zealots, rebels and insurrectionists. And your sacrifice will galvanize them. Celtic will need a scoundrel like me, a spymaster, to root out these dissidents. Because of you, I am indispensable. Because of you, I get to live."

Inferno sighed, a little sadly. "Is that why you approached me in White Rose, to turn me against Celtic?"

Nachbar nodded. "I was also the one who warned ANGQ at Pollination. I incited them so that you would turn on Celtic. My sincerest apologies for that." He shrugged, an empty gesture of contrition.

Inferno sighed again. He felt no malice, no spite, no sadness. Just resignation. A strange emptiness. The room fell silent once again as he returned his gaze out the window.

"You know you have the power to flee at any time, right?" Nachbar pointed out the obvious.

"Yes. But this is my home. My people. My responsibility. I love my homeland, and I will fight to the death to keep it safe."

Nachbar smiled, somewhat smug but also a little sad. He walked over to the door next to the throne, through which he could escape into the city.

"Very admirable, Inferno. But also foolish."

Inferno turned to look at him. He scrutinized Nachbar, absorbing every detail he could.

"I would not be so quick to judge, Peter. You too, will die protecting what you love."

Nachbar laughed darkly. "We'll see about that."

He vanished, and Inferno was left alone once more.

Gwydion, Austin, Samurai and Nitesco entered the throne room, sweating and short of breath. "We've got reports from the battlefield," the blacksmith said.

Inferno nodded. "What's the situation?"

"It's dire across the board. Our platoons are slowly being overwhelmed. The enemy's numbers are too great. I estimate that we've got an hour before the first section of defenses is routed. It'll all be downhill from there."

"No good news? Advances? Opportunities?"

"None, except that our scouts report that the enemy still hasn't discovered the secret passages out of the city."

The room was filled with uncomfortable silence for a moment before Gwydion spoke. "Listen, guys, I hate to say it, but I have to recommend that we—"

"I know what you're going to recommend," Austin interrupted, "and I have to agree. We need to save what we can." He sighed. "Organize a retreat. We're going to pull our forces and as many civilians as possible out of the city. If our information is good, we can make an escape."

Another second of silence.

"Damn it!" Nitesco shouted. "I'm so sick of losing!"

"This is all we can do," said Austin. He turned to Inferno, whose face had taken a stoic expression.

"So, this is it then?" said Inferno. "You're leaving?"

"We don't have a choice. I'm sorry, Inferno. We can't hold Crosshares. Believe me, under normal circumstances I'd defend the city to the last man. But we've lost too much already, and there's too much at stake."

Inferno sighed and placed a hand on his hand. "I understand. You have to do what you have to do."

Samurai stepped forward and placed a hand on his liege's shoulder. "Will you come with us?"

Inferno chuckled bitterly. "No. No, I can't run anymore. I'll have to face them eventually; there's no sense in delaying the inevitable. Better to do it here, in my home, on my terms. It ends here, today."

Austin opened his mouth to object but couldn't find the words he needed. He looked to Gwydion and Nitesco. Gwydion stood somberly. Nitesco wouldn't meet his eyes. Seeing an attempt to dissuade Inferno from going down with the ship would be fruitless, Austin resigned.

"Very well," he said. "Gwydion, gather some men and organize the retreat. Nitesco, you're with me; we'll see if we can do slow the advance of Celtic's forces. And, Inferno…" he paused.

"I'm sorry for the grief I've caused you. I hope I can make up for it someday."

Inferno gave a small grin. "You can make up for it by protecting my people and murdering Celtic, in that order," he said. He motioned toward the door. "Godspeed, ANGQ."

Austin nodded. He gave the order to move out and held the door open as everyone exited the throne room. As ANGQ left, Inferno grabbed Samurai's arm.

"Samurai. Wait."

The bodyguard turned to Inferno, who was looking rather sadly at the ground. He looked up, tears in his eyes.

"Thank you. You've been at my side through everything that's happened in this war. I am glad that, through everything we've suffered and everything we've lost, I've had you at my side."

Samurai choked back tears. "The feeling is mutual, my liege."

"Please, Samurai. No matter what happens, don't remember me as your liege. Remember me as your friend."

"That I can do." He shook Inferno's hand, a final sign of brotherhood, before turning to leave.

"One more thing, Samurai," he said. "Tell them I went down fighting. I want them to know, to remember me that way. Tell them I went down fighting."

"As you wish, my friend," said Samurai. With that, he exited. The door closed with a bang, and once more Inferno found himself alone in his throne room. There were no courtiers, no citizens, no patricians, no guards. Just him and the seat of his kingdom. At least, what was left of it.

For the next hour, Inferno sat on his throne and waited in quiet thought. He went through a flurry of emotions. Inferno felt sadness for the fate of his nation, regret for his failure to save it, and pride for what he had done and what he was about to do. And as he thought of the army currently working to save as much of Crosshares as possible, he also felt something unexpected: hope.

He detected somebody's presence outside the door to his chamber. Was this it? Had his time finally come? He placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to face his doom.

The sounds of distant fighting grew closer. When roughly an hour had passed, it practically stopped. Inferno sat in dead silence. Soon, that silence was broken by the sound of his door being crashed open.

Celtic himself, flanked by his elite guards, entered the throne room with weapons drawn. In response, Inferno rose and drew his sword.

From behind Celtic, a familiar face revealed itself. Grand General Chaos Vulpix of Arkos and Nuts and Dolts. Upon meeting Inferno's steely gaze, he averted his eyes.

"Inferno." Celtic growled. "Your judgement is at hand."

"So it seems," Inferno said placidly.

The tyrant turned to Vulpix.

"Say your piece and let us be done with this."

Vulpix looked up at Inferno. They locked eyes. Inferno's stoic expression softened. Vulpix blinked and looked away.

"Nothing needs to be said, my liege."

Celtic brandished his axe. "Very well. Come, Inferno. Let us finish this."

Inferno complied. He jumped into the fray, blocking and swinging and dodging and stabbing. A few of Celtic's guards fell.

Celtic prepared himself, raising his axe overhead to finish his rival off. Inferno saw an opening and poised to strike.

He felt a blade enter his stomach. He looked down, trailing up a red-robed arm until he met a familiar pair of eyes.

A tear trailed down Vulpix's cheek. Inferno sputtered and collapsed into his arms. The general held him on his back.

"I'm sorry," he choked. "I'm sorry." Inferno met his gaze one last time, and choked out his final absolution:

"I forgive you."

And in Vulpix's arms, he expired.

A silence passed over the hall. What remained of Celtic's guard stood and looked at them. Vulpix could barely hold himself together.

Celtic walked over to Inferno's body. He stared at it, as if to make sure he was dead.

"Good riddance." He spat on Inferno's corpse and walked out of the throne room, his guardsmen close behind.

The general picked up Inferno's body, walked over to the throne and set it there. He bowed his head, a final respect, and left.

And once more, silence fell over the empty hall.


	20. Chapter 20

The commanders were silent as they lead their remaining forces away from Crosshares. Hours passed as they marched, keeping a steady pace as they moved further and further from the site of their most recent defeat. Eventually, when they had put sufficient distance between themselves and Celtic's forces, the army came to a halt. Gwydion broke the silence with an announcement.

"We'll set up camp here and stay for the night. Raise some tents, get some fires going, and get some rest. If you have any injuries, see a medic. Good work today." With that, the soldiers dispersed, preparing to settle down for the evening.

Austin tapped Gwydion's shoulder to get his attention. "I'm going to go take care of something. I'll be back in a little while." With that, he walked off into the woods, leaving his co-commanders to oversee the camp.

Time passed. Camp was set up, and soldiers relaxed after a difficult and emotionally trying day. Gwydion and Nitesco waited near the command tent, but Austin had yet to return.

"I'm starting to get worried," Nitesco said. "Where is he?"

"I'll go look for him," Gwydion said. "You stay here and oversee things. He probably hasn't gone far."

With that, Gwydion left the way Austin had gone and began his search. After ten minutes, he found the person he was looking for. However, he was surprised by the state he was in.

Austin was leaning up against a tree, with one hand on the trunk and another on his forehead. Gwydion could hear him breathing heavily, and he saw that his legs were shaking as he stood. Concerned for his friend's health, Gwydion called out.

"Austin! You okay?"

Austin jumped and turned toward the sudden sound of Gwydion's voice, his face turning pale with shock. After a second, he sighed.

"Oh, Gwydion, it's just you. Yes, I'm fine. I'm fine." Austin sat with his back against the tree and looked up at the starry night sky. Gwydion approached and took a seat next to him.

"What are you doing out here? You've been gone for over an hour."

Austin hesitated. "I'm… I was just…" He sighed and shook his head. "I had to get away from everyone. A commanding officer can't let his subordinates see him as vulnerable." Austin raised his hands to wipe his eyes, and Gwydion realized he had been crying. "I can't let them see me showing weakness, and certainly not panicking. But I had to get these things out of my system. Gwydion, I'm overcome with guilt. Guns N' Roses and Crosshares have fallen while under my command. It was my job to protect them; my job to lead them to victory, as I've done many times in the past. But I failed them." He clenched a shaking fist. "Two realms now are subjugated and two good kings now lie dead because I couldn't keep them safe from Celtic. It's killing me." Gwydion listened in silence as Austin continued ranting, his voice gradually increasing in volume.

"Even worse, our war effort is in a worse position now than it's ever been. Now that we've lost Crosshares, we have nowhere to retreat. Our supplies will run scarce, and our numbers will continue to dwindle until there's nothing left. If I can't come up with some plan to save this army, we'll all be doomed and Celtic will have his—"

Austin was interrupted by Gwydion firmly placing his hands on his shoulders. Startled, Austin stared at Gwydion wide-eyed, as if he'd just realized he was there.

"Get a hold of yourself!" Gwydion said, forcefully. "First of all, none of us blame you for what happened at either Guns N' Roses or Crosshares. Those battles were lost from the moment they began, but your efforts helped us get as many people out alive as we could. And if blame does need to be assigned," he added, pointing at his own chest, "myself and Nitesco surely share some responsibility for those defeats. We're commanders too, you know. Don't act like you're the only one making decisions."

Austin looked down, his expression showing a mix of shame and thoughtfulness.

"And second," Gwydion continued, "This war isn't over yet. We're still alive, and we still have a fighting force. We can still take the fight to Celtic if we play our cards right. But it will only be possible if all three of us are at our best physically and mentally as we plan our next moves. So," Gwydion stood, and extended a hand down to Austin. "Come back to camp with me, and let's get to work figuring out how to salvage this situation."

Austin grabbed Gwydion's hand and pulled himself up. He gave his co-commander an appreciative smile. "Thanks, Gwydion. I think I really needed that."

"Hey, that's what friends are for."

Austin chuckled. "By the way, don't tell Nitesco you saw me crying. I can't have him starting to think I'm not as cool as I act."

Gwydion smiled, appreciating that Austin's sense of humor had returned. "Of course."

"Now, let's get going. We have work to do."

With that, they walked back together.

As the two entered the command tent, Nitesco stood to greet them.

"About time you guys got back, I was starting to get worried. You okay, Austin?"

Austin waved a hand dismissively. "I'm fine. We need to talk about where we're going. First, we can't finish the fight with Celtic with only the soldiers we have here. We need to find more allies."

"Jaded and Thermometer were Emberald's main rivals in Villainia. With Yukon dead and Emberald essentially dismantled, they will be rising powers in the region. They would be a great boon in our fight against Celtic."

"Arkos and Nuts and Dolts are still problems. However, controlling territory on both sides of the Heretical Inlet leaves them open to attack. If we get Renora on our side, they can draw troops to the north while we march through the south."

Nitesco raised his hand. "And what of Rubia and Heroa? Surely we need allies there too?"

"Monochrome, Freezerburn and Ladybug are solidifying their power bases, and the only remaining power that could be of use to us in Heroa is Goodwood. I'm not too sure how much they'll do for us, but everything counts."

"If we can gather enough soldiers, we can launch an attack on Night's Watch. But there's still the problem of getting there. It's nigh unassailable. It's surrounded by mountains, which prevents a direct attack from the east or north, and the flatlands in the south have to be heavily reinforced. We must find a way to pierce their defenses, or we can never prevail."

"That's all fine and good," Gwydion said. "But we have a more pressing concern: the Crosshares soldiers. Inferno's gone. When they find out, they might abandon us."

Nitesco stroked his chin as the commanders fell into thought. "What about Samurai?"

Gwydion and Austin nodded in assent. Nitesco walked into camp and found Samurai's tent.

He was kneeling, head down, helmet off. His breathing was heavy and irregular.

"Samurai." Samurai raised his head, sniffed and turned to Nitesco.

"Hello, Nitesco. I'm sorry you have to see me like this."

"It's fine. I just wanted to talk."

Samurai took a seat and beckoned for Nitesco to continue.

"I know it's hard. He was my friend too. We didn't start on the best of terms, but in the end, he was one of the truest friends I've ever had. Now he's gone, but we must move forward. We must make Celtic pay. Samurai, those soldiers out there, they need a leader. Someone who is strong. Someone who is just. Someone who will keep Inferno's legacy alive, someone who will carry on the fight. They need someone like you."

Samurai sat in silence, absorbing Nitesco's proposition. After a moment of thinking he nodded.

"Very well. I'll do it."

He stood and exited the tent, finding his way to a large mound conveniently placed in the center of the camp. He raised his fist in the air, beckoning for silence. Almost immediately, all the troops complied.

He exhaled, heart pounding.

"My friends. We have suffered a most grievous loss today. Our capital is in flames. Our lands have been pillaged."

He paused. Tears were held back.

"Our king is dead."

Gasps. The soldiers had been in denial, afraid of admitting that their liege, their king, who had led them through so much, had died.

"But we are a strong people. We are a fierce people. We are a vengeful people. Inferno may be gone, but he will never die. Celtic, that tyrant, sits in his castle and laughs. We must not let him triumph again! We must wipe that bastard off the face of the earth! We must destroy every trace of that man and his wretched, scheming Council! Together, we must avenge Inferno, and we will rain fire down upon Celtic. We must be as strong and unremitting as winter itself. I understand if you want to leave. Go right ahead, nobody will stop you. But if you want to stay and fight, if you want to redeem our nation, if you want to avenge your king, then stand with me. I may not be a king. I'm just a poor farmer's boy from Nuclea. But if you would have me, I will lead you all to victory or death!"

The soldiers cried and howled, bloodlust and righteous fury coursing through their veins. Off to the side, Nitesco and Gwydion beamed while Austin clapped softly.

Somehow, somewhere, they all knew Inferno was proud.

* * *

Celtic paced impatiently in his throne room, listening to his officers debrief him on how his empire's administration was crumbling and how everything was going to shit.

"The situation in Rubia is dire," Duke Munkee 'the Outcast' spoke up. "The region is stabilizing, and the governors we appointed are being ousted. Certain powers, Freezerburn in particular, are regaining their power bases, and they could potentially strike at my nation or your other allies in the region."

Greatness' report was also dire. "Villainia fares no better. Since Yukon died, rebel cells have sprung up and made surgical strikes in the region. The Governor of Tauradonna died suspiciously after a banquet, and her replacement ruled for exactly two weeks before his carriage went over a cliff. Overall, our allies are holding strong, but opposition is growing rapidly."

At last, it was Vulpix's turn to speak. "Zentics, we believe, is growing disloyal. Not as many of his troops are going to our levies, and not as many of our coins are going to our coffers. Aside from this, our hold on the region is relatively strong, if weaker than before."

Celtic sighed and rubbed his temples. "Damnation. At least we no longer have to deal with Inferno and those three terrorists." Munkee and Vulpix exchanged glances. Greatness cleared his throat and spoke.

"Actually, we believe that they may have survived the sack of Crosshares—"

Celtic growled and grabbed his axe, embedding it in the throne to the right of his. Splinters of wood flew out and hit him in the side; he seemed not to notice.

"I want them dead. Wherever they go, they sow dissidence, cause trouble, and undermine everything I tried so hard to create. Do we have any news on their activities?"

It was Munkee's turn to speak. "My scouts intercepted correspondence between Austin Rufus and King Redwing of Ladybug—"

Celtic wrenched the axe out of the throne to his right and smashed it into the one on the left. He paused and exhaled in an effort to calm himself.

"I assume there's more."

"We suspect they may be contacting Freezerburn and Monochrome as well."

Celtic sighed and sat down, tired of embedding his axe into things. "Do you know their current location?"

"They are on the move, my liege," Vulpix reported. "We believe they are marching to Polendia City."

"Then they must be eliminated. Greatness, take what spare men we have and go to the city. We cannot let them take Nuts and Dolts. They must die there."

"Are you sure, my liege? We risk leaving the castle underdefended—"

Celtic leaned over and grabbed Greatness by the collar, dragging him to his knees. The mercenary, surprised and fearful, let out a gasp.

" _I_ am the commander here. You will do as _I_ say. If I want something done, it gets done. You obey me unquestioningly. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my liege," he growled. Celtic let him go.

"Go on about your business. I have matters of the state to attend to." Celtic took a seat. Greatness and Munkee bowed and exited into the foyer while Vulpix went to find Jokey and Maker in the Council room.

He found them poring over blueprints and discussing things of which he had no knowledge. Jokey was pacing and waving his hands in a slightly theatrical fashion while Maker ran her hands through her hair as she sat in her chair.

"Well, if we put it near the lung, turning it could theoretically restrict the air flow. The resulting fight response would make you fight harder for sure, but it would be immensely painful and possibly—" Maker stopped.

"Vulpix. I did not expect the meeting to end so early. Where's Greatness?"

Vulpix pulled up a seat for himself. "Celtic got a little snippy and lashed out at him. I worry for his mental health."

"He's under a lot of stress." Jokey defended his master. "Can you say you wouldn't do the same?"

The general sighed. "No, I cannot." He paused. "So, what were you discussing before I arrived?"

"A potential modification to my armor," Jokey explained. "I need some way to press myself harder. My injury at Guns N' Roses was severe, and we're trying to find a way to restore my strength. Artificial methods have failed us, so we turned to taking advantage of the fight or flight response."

"Most interesting." Vulpix feigned understanding. "How long have you two been planning this?"

"Since I was nearly defeated by Samurai at Crosshares. Luckily, Nachbar lent me a firework, and that alerted some nearby troops."

"Ah, Nachbar." Maker grimaced. "A most distasteful person. Unfortunately, we need him, now more than ever."

"Hold on," Vulpix said. "Jokey, you said he lent you a firework?"

"Um, yes. He gave one to me right before the battle, just in case."

"Weren't the Rowj forces alerted at Pollination by a firework?"

A grim silence took hold of the room.

"Holy shit," Maker said.

Jokey clenched his fists. "It was him all along."

"Jokey." Vulpix attempted to calm him. "I know that you're angry, but don't do anything…"

He slammed his hands down on the table. "That man is a traitor. He was a traitor from the beginning. He manipulated Inferno against us, he's why this war has lasted for so long! For all we know, he could be behind Yukon's death too!"

"Jokey!" Maker stood up and yelled at him, silencing him instantly.

"You mustn't let emotion get a hold of you. If Nachbar is truly a traitor, we must have concrete proof before eliminating him." Jokey nodded, still fuming, and took a seat.

"Where is he now?" Jokey asked.

"Somewhere in the Kingdom of Eclipse, probably Black Sun," Vulpix answered. "There was reasonable suspicion that the lords in the area were plotting against Celtic, and he went to investigate." "Very good. I'll set out at once." Jokey stood. "I know his meeting place in the city. He and I were there some years ago to assassinate the regent."

"I'll inform Celtic," Maker said. "Be careful."

He bowed his head, said his farewells to Maker and Vulpix and left the room.

"To think it's been Nachbar this whole time…" Vulpix trailed off. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"Don't worry, my friend. We'll deal with him in time. This war has been difficult for all of us, but we mustn't let it disillusion us. We must remain true to our cause."

"You're right, Maker. But we've lost so much. So many of our people have been killed. Nachbar is a traitor, Yukon's dead, In—" He paused.

"Is it worth it?"

They sat in silence, not knowing the answer.

* * *

Quixotic walked through the streets of Eclipse, making an effort to keep his face hidden. He dodged another patrol and ducked down an alley, eventually finding a small door marked with chalk in one corner. He knocked on the door, twice, once then twice again. He heard several latches unlock and the door opened.

The spy closed the door behind him, latching all four latches before sitting down at the table. Nachbar took a swig from a bottle of beer and set it aside.

"Have you learned anything?" Nachbar asked.

"The assassinations went off without a hitch. Governor Lieur was found dead in her bedroom, allegedly from food poisoning. Her replacement Count Skycress was also dealt with."

"Good. Very good. Without Tauradonna, Villainia will begin slipping from Celtic's grasp." Nachbar took another swig. "Would you like any?"

Quixotic waved him off. "No thanks."

"Suit yourself." Nachbar reached into his pouch and pulled out a wad of papers. He set them on the table and pushed them over to Quixotic, who picked them up and began looking over them.

"I am aware of your former friends' plans to attack Celtic; I happen to have a friend in their camp."

A look from Quixotic put him on the defensive.

"Rest assured that no information is going to Celtic. Now, there is a secret pass through the mountains located near Nuts and Dolts that leads directly to Night's Watch. Celtic is too arrogant to think that they'll discover it and too pressed for extra men to spare any to defend it. If you can get those maps to Austin, Nitesco and the other one, you can give them an advantage that will win this war." Quixotic nodded as his colleague spoke. "I understand. Where are they now?"

"They'll be near Nuts and Dolts by the time you catch up with them," Nachbar informed him. "ANGQ plans to support some rebels in the region, and that timing has worked out well for us." Quixotic winced slightly at the sound of his old team name. ANGQ. How long had it been since he had heard that?

"Are you alright, Quixotic?" Nachbar asked, a tad concerned.

"Yes," Quixotic responded unconvincingly. He stared at the wall for a few seconds before turning to Nachbar.

"You know, I still remember the day we first met."

Nachbar laughed. "As do I. You had stolen the documents I needed from the Eclipse captain, killed the man they sent after you and successfully talked yourself out of trouble when the Bumblebeeans captured you. That commanded my respect."

Quixotic nodded, reminiscing. "What was his name again?"

"Silva, if I remember correctly."

"Hmm." They became silent again.

"Well, I'd best get going. Stay safe, Nachbar.

His colleague nodded. "You too, Quixotic."

Quixotic unlatched the door and walked off into the busy streets of the city. As he did so, a figure watched him from the rooftops above.

"Quixotic Quail. How long has it been since I've seen you?" Jokey chuckled.

He laughed and descended into the alleyway below.


	21. Chapter 21

Team ANGS, whose name was still unofficial, marched through the forests outside Nuts and Dolts, accompanied by a small contingent of scouts and skirmishers. After finding a suitable encampment, they stopped to rest.

Samurai dismounted and looked around the camp nervously. Gwydion, noting his concerned demeanor, walked over to him.

"Got something on your mind, do you?"

Samurai turned to his co-commanders. "Are you sure we have enough men to take the city? Polendia is sure to have at least ten thousand defenders. We have six thousand men. Even with the most optimistic estimates, we're still outmanned."

"Not to worry," Austin said. "Manpower isn't a problem. We've enlisted the support of Ladybug, Freezerburn, and Monochrome. However, their armies won't be arriving until tomorrow, so we must lie low for the time being, else we risk exposure and defeat."

"And if we're spotted?" Samurai asked.

"Our main force won't be." Gwydion placated him. "I instructed Colonel Antred to strike camp near the ravine, so patrols won't spot them. Still, we need some tactical assessment of the city's defenses."

"Alright. Who's up for some reconnaissance?" Nitesco asked eagerly. "I saw a few vantage points on the way here that we can use to scout the city's defenses. Gwydion, would you like to come along?"

"Sure," Gwydion said. He turned to Samurai and Austin. "You two, send some men to that half of the forest. Strike camp here; we'll return when we're done."

Austin nodded. "Will do. Come along, Samurai."

Nitesco and Gwydion began trekking through the dense forest. Despite the abundance of foliage, there was no discernable sound other than the whistling of wind through the trees and bushes. There were no bird calls, no squirrels or raccoons, and the whine of insects was absent. All that could be heard was the sound of leaves dancing gently in the wind. It was a pleasant change of pace for the two friends.

"It's so peaceful," Nitesco noted aloud, craning his head upward to look at the trees. He could see movement up above, but he was unsure what was causing it. If it was some squirrels or raccoons, they were being very courteous to allow the pair to walk in peace.

"It is, isn't it?" Gwydion responded. He narrowly ducked under a precariously low-hanging branch, the leaves brushing his cheek. "When was the last time any of us got the chance to do anything like this? To just do something mundane, without that thought of war lingering in the back of your mind?"

Nitesco stroked his chin. "I don't know. Probably before Bumblebee…" he trailed off.

"How long have we been fighting this war?" he asked Gwydion. Gwydion stepped over a rock and shrugged.

"Oh, probably about…" Gwydion paused. He hummed thoughtfully. "I'm not really sure. I suppose we'll figure that out another time."

"I suppose," Nitesco said. They went back to walking and enjoying the serenity of the forest.

About half an hour into their walk, the pair came upon a large rock that jutted out from the rest of the trail. They turned and perched on it, examining the wilderness below them. Down the slope of the small mountain they were on, they saw Polendia, the capital city of Nuts and Dolts, alight with activity. Small groups of soldiers patrolled around the walls and more stood at the gates and on the battlements, but they were very few. Beyond the city, the large mountains loomed ominously.

Nitesco squinted as he scrutinized the city suspiciously. "Hmm. The city seems too lightly defended. It's the capital of Nuts and Dolts for crying out loud! There should be more soldiers guarding it."

"Not that I'm complaining, but you're right," Gwydion concurred. "Either Celtic's running low on manpower or the soldiers have been distributed elsewhere. My money's on the latter."

"I agree. But that begs the question: where did all the soldiers go?"

Almost on cue, they heard a rustling behind them. Thinking that it was an animal, they turned around slowly, curious as to what it was.

On a small hill just above them, Nitesco and Gwydion spotted soldiers moving through the brush, too focused on getting where they needed to be to pay them any attention. In the distance, they heard cries and the clangs of swords.

"The camp!" They cried in unison and began sprinting back.

They realized, as they sprinted through the forest, that they had wandered farther away from the camp than they had intended. After dodging a few Nuts and Dolts soldiers, they at last came upon their encampment.

Most of the soldiers had fled by then, Nitesco guessed, for the camp seemed emptier than before. In their place, numerous Nuts and Dolts soldiers stood over what remained of their forces, bound and captured, if not dead. Samurai was lying on his side, badly beaten and unconscious. Austin stood, bound, gagged and surrounded by soldiers, looking down at the ground ashamedly. In the center of the camp, dressed in light armor and heavy black cloth, stood the 942nd Cavaliers. In the center of those men stood Greatness himself.

"Well I'll be. What have we here? Gwydion! And Nitesco, I believe it was?" Though he tried to suppress it, a smug smirk still managed to creep across the mercenary's face. "I underestimated your boldness, charging into the camp without any plans! You'd think that after all this time, the two of you would be more… strategic, but I'm afraid I expected too much of you."

"Greatness," Gwydion growled. He lunged forward, but one of the enemy knights grabbed him by the elbow.

"Now, now. Let's not be tempestuous. You, my friends, are surrounded, outnumbered and most certainly outclassed." He drew his sword and held it to Austin's throat.

"But I do not seek to kill you. That's why I took your men by surprise. You're more valuable to us alive, although I will let you know, I am perfectly fine bringing your corpses back to Celtic. Nonetheless, I will make you an offer. Surrender. Cast down your arms and come with us, and your men will be spared. Refuse…" He trailed off menacingly.

"Well, for their sake, I hope you don't refuse."

Austin, while gagged, shook his head vigorously. One of the soldiers hit him square between the shoulder blades with the hilt of his sword, and he collapsed onto his knees.

Nitesco looked up and around hoping that somebody, anybody, would come to his aid and rescue them. Then, amazingly, behind a tree he saw a soldier wearing Crosshares armor. The soldier raised a finger to his lips and readied his bow and arrow.

Gwydion too, saw this. He turned back to Greatness.

"Look, this is an important decision. I think we need a little time to consider-"

Greatness scoffed and stepped forward, angered by Gwydion's audacity. With one swift movement, he backhanded him, sending him reeling to the ground.

"You do not get to make requests of me, Gwydion. I am in command here, not you!"

As he finished his sentence, an arrow whizzed past him and hit one of his men in the throat. His look of arrogant anger turned to surprise and fear as he whirled around. To his terror, some of the Crosshares soldiers had regrouped after retreating and turned back, intent on rescuing their commanders.

"Cowardly dogs! Men, form up! Counterattack!" Greatness turned to his own soldiers.

"Secure the prisoners! Get them back to camp!"

Nitesco took the opportunity to draw his blade and strike Greatness across the chin. The mercenary staggered backwards, a look of indignation on his face.

"Bastards!" He cried, drawing his blade.

Gwydion and Nitesco looked at Austin, who frantically signaled for them to escape with various head and eye movements. They heeded his directions, sprinting as fast as they could out of the ensuing bloodbath and into the woods.

As they ran, some of the soldiers under Greatness' command noticed and gave chase. Seeing this, the pair zigzagged through the trees and the bushes, desperately trying to gain some ground or at least confuse their pursuers. Nitesco, worrying that they were catching up to them, turned around to see where they were. His foot caught a strategically placed rock, and the young commander plummeted to the ground. Gwydion, seeing this, skidded to a halt and turned around.

"Nitesco!" He cried out. The soldiers quickly caught up to Nitesco, two angling their weapons at Gwydion while one pulled out a dagger and held it to Nitesco's throat.

"Drop your weapons or the boy dies!" The mercenary said. He dug the dagger into Nitesco's throat, eliciting a small cry of pain. "Surrender. You're outnumbered."

Gwydion looked behind the mercenaries and smiled.

"No, you're outnumbered." A wry, mischievous grin crossed his face. The mercenaries turned around and, seeing a large group of Crosshares soldiers with their weapons pointed at them, quickly dropped their swords and daggers and raised their hands.

"Hey, guys," one of them said. "We can work this out, can't we?" Nitesco stood as if nothing had happened and walked over to Gwydion.

"I doubt that very much," he said. "Men, do away with them."

The men complied. The mercenaries attempted to pick up their weapons, but were struck down before they could do so. Gwydion and Nitesco looked on.

Gwydion sighed. "That was…distasteful."

"Yes," Nitesco agreed. "But it was necessary."

"Now what do we do?" Gwydion asked. "They've got Austin and Samurai. We've lost half of our commanders and some of our best skirmishers. To top it all off, we're still undermanned."

"Not entirely true," Nitesco remarked. "We have reinforcements coming in from Rubia. With them, we can certainly take the city and rescue our friends." He paused, anger flashing in his eyes.

"We're not letting that fucker get away with it, you hear me? Greatness will pay." Gwydion nodded his head in emphatic agreement.

"Come on, men. Let's head back to camp."

They headed back through the dense forests, taking about half an hour to get back to where the bulk of their forces were. When they arrived near the ravine, the Colonel was there to greet them. "My friends! Where have you been? You were supposed to have returned some time ago." Gwydion waved him off, and Nitesco stood on a high rock, preparing to address the soldiers.

"My friends, I come to you with grim news. While on a scouting expedition, some of our co-commanders have been captured! Austin and Samurai were abducted by Greatness, the leader of Celtic's brutish enforcers, the 942nd."

Cries of anger echoed throughout the crowd. Nitesco, clearly seething, allowed them.

"Those bastards have holed up inside the city. The cowards must not be allowed to get away with this! They have condemned each and every person in that city. When our reinforcements arrive, we will destroy Greatness, the brutes under his command and the city itself! The streets of Polendia will run red with blood! Who's with me?"

He raised his arms in the air, and the soldiers cheered with him, eager to rescue or avenge their commanders. Nitesco, satisfied, beckoned for Gwydion to follow him into the tent, where they plotted their assault.

* * *

Greatness walked through the dungeons of Polendia, hands knitted behind his back, his sword tapping against his leg every time he took a step. He paid it no heed.

After walking past numerous cell doors, he arrived at the end of the corridor; the guards, seeing him, saluted and opened the door. The door was shut behind him, and he inspected the two cells in front of him. In one, an old man stood, glaring intently at him. In the other, the bodyguard and lieutenant of the late King Inferno had become lucid and joined his comrade in glaring at him.

"Hello, my friends," he said, fake joviality poisoning his words. Samurai scoffed.

"Friends? We were never friends, Greatness. We all knew Celtic was waiting to stab Inferno in the back. If you were my friend, you'd let us both go."

Greatness sighed and pulled up a chair.

"You know, I could have killed you instead of capturing you. You should thank me for sparing you. Ingrates."

"Why are you keeping us alive?" Austin asked, making no attempt to mask his contempt. "Why not just kill us and be done with it?"

Greatness sat up. "Because I'm sure Celtic will reward me for bringing you two in alive. Austin, you're clearly the mastermind of these ragtag insurrectionists. I'm sure that you can be… convinced to hand over your knowledge of rebel cells to Celtic, given the right incentive."

Austin sneered. "You'll never get anything out of me, you pathetic mongrel."

Greatness rolled his eyes and stood up. "Spare me. Many men have told us that. Few men had the conviction to stand by their claim." He walked over to Samurai's cell.

"And you… I'm sure Celtic would like to have a talk with you." Samurai rocketed forward, grabbing the bars of his cell. Greatness stared at him, unflinching.

"You surprise me, Greatness. After all this time, you're still his little bitch." He snickered, but Greatness merely waved him off.

"I am honor-bound to serve Celtic. He is my liege."

Austin snorted. "Honor-bound? You may be honor-bound, but do you believe anymore? No, I see it in your eyes: you doubt."

Greatness growled and walked over to Austin's cell. He gestured threateningly, but Austin was unfazed.

"I know that look all too well, _Magnus_. You doubt if what you're doing is right. You doubt if your cause is just. You doubt if your actions will really lead to a better world. You're disillusioned!" He said the last word like a child saying a word he shouldn't. Greatness glared at him, but Austin laughed triumphantly.

"Greatness," Samurai got his attention. "If you really are a man of honor, if you really care about morality, you won't keep us in here to hand over to that despot. You'll let us go. You'll surrender the city. You'll avoid all this needless bloodshed!"

Greatness struck the wall with his fist, his stare boring a hole into Samurai's head.

"Enough!" He cried. "I will not betray my liege. Another word out of you," he turned to Austin. "Either of you, and I will not hesitate to hand you over to the torturers until it's time to leave."

He turned around and opened the door, beckoning to the guards.

"Keep a close eye on them. They're too shifty for their own good."

He walked through the halls of the dungeon, up the winding staircase at the entrance and out into the courtyard. He sat down on one of the stone benches surrounding the fountain in the middle. It was hard and uncomfortable; he didn't mind it that much.

All of a sudden, a large projectile flew over his head and struck the castle. At once he stood up, alarmed, but quickly recovered his composure and rushed to the battlements.

He gazed over the walls into the night. He could see numerous people charging across the fields at the defenders of the city. Even in the darkness, he could see that his people outnumbered the attackers. What the hell were they doing? Were Nitesco and Gwydion that desperate to get their friends back? He scoffed at their stupidity.

All of a sudden, a section of the city wall too close to where he was for comfort erupted in a shower of stone and displaced mortar. He looked across the fields to see where the blast had come from. More soldiers descended from the forests on that side of the field. Where had they come from? How had the rebels acquired this many soldiers?

"Commander!" One of the mercenaries cried. "What are your orders?"

Greatness looked around for an opportunity to counterattack, any vulnerabilities in the enemy lines. He saw none.

"Get every soldier we can out on the fields! Keep the archers on the walls. Everybody else goes to the front lines!"

The soldier ran off to spread word of Greatness' orders. Greatness unsheathed his blade and descended back into the courtyard. Enemy soldiers were already spilling through the breach in the walls. Reinforcing the defensive line would do them no good now. He rushed over to the dungeon door. The guards standing by it, while clearly nervous, had not moved from their posts.

"Prepare the prisoners for transport. Take the back exit out of the prison. We must not let them fall back into enemy hands!"

The soldiers nodded and descended the staircase. Greatness, still concerned with the defense of the city, turned around and walked back into the courtyard to see if anything could be done for its protection.

When he walked out there, he saw a familiar figure standing there, waiting for him.

Gwydion.

"Greatness," Gwydion said. He stared at him, deep hatred burning in his eyes.

"Boy." Greatness scrutinized him, looking him up and down. "I suppose this was inevitable. Are you going to offer me mercy?" He sneered at the blacksmith.

"We're long past that, Magnus." Gwydion readied his sword.

Greatness smiled, a little sadly, at the sound of that. "Then let us begin."

Gwydion flew at him, striking and stabbing with more ferocity than Greatness expected of him. He raised his broadsword and deflected Gwydion's strikes.

"I must admit," Greatness remarked, "you've improved since Guns N' Roses. Not that it will save you."

Gwydion charged him again. At the last second, he dove under Greatness' broad swing and came up behind him. The mercenary jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding Gwydion's thrust.

"That's enough out of you, Magnus! You captured my friends, and I won't allow you to get away with that!"

Gwydion swung and whirled his blade rapidly, trying to trick Greatness into opening up his defenses. Greatness kept up with all of Gwydion's strikes, but was aware that Gwydion had almost broken through his poise.

Greatness locked blades with Gwydion and gave him a hefty kick to the stomach. The blacksmith flew backwards, hitting the fountain. He narrowly rolled out of the way as Greatness buried his blade into the side and yanked it out, water flowing out of the cracks as he did so.

"Give up, Magnus. Your soldiers are routed, the city has fallen to us. Accept defeat!" Gwydion went in for another barrage but was repelled.

"I am honor-bound to serve Celtic! I will not accept defeat except in battle!"

"Honor? Since when have you ever cared about honor?" Gwydion cried, and he leaped at the mercenary. Greatness shifted his weight onto his back foot and deflected Gwydion's blow. Gwydion landed on the ground with a painful thump, but quickly got back up again.

"You've killed civilians, murdered indiscriminately. You betrayed my father and all your friends! And for what?"

Greatness flung his blade upwards, but Gwydion sidestepped it and continued walking backward, waiting for Greatness' defense to open up. Greatness growled.

"Your father betrayed us before I betrayed him. He was going to sell us out! We would become indentured to some minor noblemen, our services at his whim. We were going to become the minions of some foreign lord, in exchange for what? Some coin? Our honor, our dignity for some coin! I wasn't just going to roll over and let it happen. I had to act!"

"Hypocrite!" Gwydion yelled. "You murdered my family and my friends for that, and now look at you! The glorified flunky of a despotic madman! Oh, you've sure come a long way!"

He attempted to lunge at Greatness, but he was tiring, his stamina too low. Greatness knocked the blade from his hand and kicked him backwards.

"Celtic may be despotic, but his cause is just. I am not some mere lackey. I am a Councilman. The men followed me because they believed in the cause. I believe in the cause."

Gwydion stood up again and attempted to disarm Greatness, but he received a sword hilt to the gut and was sent to the ground, his strength sapped.

"I am the herald of a new world, powerful and mighty! You are just more rebel scum, flailing fruitlessly against the march of progress. You try and try to defend the old world, but you have nothing to show for your efforts!" He placed a boot on Gwydion's neck. Gwydion was too spent to resist.

"Maybe, Magnus," Gwydion sputtered. "Maybe you're right. But I have one thing you don't."

"Oh," Greatness replied. "And what might that be?"

The biggest, smuggest smile of all time crossed Gwydion's face.

"A hand cannon."

Greatness furrowed his brow. "A wha-"

Before he could finish, Gwydion brought the hand cannon up and fired a shot into his adversary's chest. A jet of blood exploded from the entry point, and Greatness staggered backward before falling down.

Gwydion walked over to his side and knelt. The mercenary looked up and coughed.

"Well I'll be damned. You did it after all." He coughed again, more violently this time.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way, Magnus." Gwydion lowered his head. "But this is the fate of every tyrant. Any man who rules on fear cannot rule for long. He commands obedience, but not loyalty. He is doomed to fail."

"But…but I believe!" Greatness sputtered, slowly letting his head fall back.

"If you really believed, you would have won this fight. But you didn't. Deep down, you knew this wasn't right. Deep down, you wanted to escape this. You may not be a good man, Magnus, but at least you knew what was right, in the end."

Greatness laughed, small tears forming in his eyes.

"Goddamn. You always did have a way with words."

He closed his eyes and grew still. Gwydion sighed.

He stayed there for a little while, perhaps longer than he should have. At last, he stood and left the courtyard.

After wandering through the bloodied streets, wading through the carnage, he became sick. Seeing the destruction that was wrought throughout the city made him a little queasy, a feeling he had not experienced in some time.

At last, he found Nitesco. He was walking through the streets, making sure there were no survivors.

"Nitesco!" He cried. Nitesco looked up at him, clearly relieved he was alive. "Have you seen Austin and Samurai?"

"Yes," he said. "One of the junior officers liberated them. They were trying to move them out of the city before we could get to them. Samurai's been taken to a triage tent to tend to his wounds, but Austin's waiting for us in an inn down the street. Come along?"

Gwydion nodded. "Go on ahead, I'll be there in a second."

Nitesco shrugged and began walking down the street. Gwydion looked around him, at the carnage, the blood, the death. Was it worth it?

He found he couldn't answer. Gwydion turned around and followed Nitesco down the street.


	22. Chapter 22

Nitesco and Gwydion entered the inn where Austin was supposed to be. Seeing his friend sitting at a table, Nitesco wore a broad smile. Austin glared angrily at him in return.

"We need to talk about what happened out there," Austin said, slowly rising from his seat. He winced, still feeling the pain of his recent injuries.

"Easy, easy," Gwydion said as he and Nitesco walked over. "We can talk, but don't strain yourself. You need rest."

Austin waved his hand dismissively and addressed Nitesco. "What you did today was unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable."

Taken aback, Nitesco's smile was replaced with a look of defensiveness. "What are you talking about?" he said coldly. "We won, didn't we? Nuts and Dolts is ours now. Celtic is crippled. We're doing great. What's the problem?"

Austin furrowed his brow. "The _problem_ ," he said, "is that you were completely out of control. I don't know what you said to your men, but I saw things out there that I never wanted to see—" he stopped himself before saying the word "again." Clenching a fist, he continued. "I saw defenseless peasants, men, women, and children alike, children, cut open and bleeding on the ground. People whose only crime against you was running away. You had military targets to focus on, objectives to complete, an army to defeat. What the _hell_ possessed you to prioritize committing atrocities over completing the mission‽"

Nitesco gritted his teeth. "My priority was rescuing you and Samurai. That's exactly what I did. A little thanks would be appreciated."

Austin sighed. "I can't thank you for this. Samurai and I weren't worth all of the blood on those streets." He looked at Nitesco the way a disappointed parent looks at a guilty child. "You went too far, Nitesco. Way too far."

Incensed, Nitesco walked up to Austin and pressed a finger against his chest. "You, of all people, don't get to lecture me about ethics. You don't get to act like what I did was reprehensible, or even unusual. This is war, right? I did what I had to do. What I felt was best. Those people served Celtic. Their continued existence was an act of hostility. If their blood is the cost of winning the war, then it's a cost I'm more than willing to pay." He turned to exit. "I'm going for a walk. Come find me when you remember why we're here."

Austin opened his mouth to respond, intending to stop Nitesco from leaving. Unable to find the words, he sat in silence as Nitesco walked out of the inn.

Gwydion stood uncomfortably. "I'm going to go check on Samurai. He's still being treated for his wounds."

Austin nodded, and Gwydion departed. Austin sat alone with his thoughts and regrets.

* * *

Nitesco walked the streets of Polendia for a while, before eventually settling down in a park that had been left mostly untouched by the fighting. He sat on a stone bench and absorbed his surroundings for a while, letting the sounds of plants and wildlife fill his ears and distract him. Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice.

"I figured you guys would make your way here soon enough."

Startled, Nitesco jumped up from the bench and turned to see who was talking to him. What he saw left him speechless.

"Hey, friend," said Quixotic. "How have you been?"

Nitesco blinked. For a second, the two stared at each other, unmoving. Then, Nitesco made his move.

"You sold us out, you son of a bitch!"

He charged Quixotic furiously and tackled him to the ground.

"Woah," Quixotic said nervously. "At least buy me dinner first."

"What are you doing here‽" Nitesco yelled while pinning Quixotic down.

"I've come back to help."

"Oh, yeah, because you really helped us last time. Why the hell should I trust you after what you did?"

"Please," Quixotic begged, "can I have a chance to explain myself? If you aren't satisfied with what I have to say, you can imprison me, or execute me, or whatever. Just hear me out."

Nitesco hesitated. He spent a moment staring down at his former comrade, trying to read his expression. Quixotic wore the most earnest face Nitesco had ever seen from him. Quixotic had always been sneaky with his actions, but he had never been anything but honest when expressing his emotions. Nitesco sighed and stood up, allowing Quixotic to stand as well.

"Fine," he said. "Say what you're going to say. It'd better be good."

Quixotic smiled and allowed himself to relax. He walked over, sat down on the bench, and motioned for Nitesco to sit next to him. Nitesco complied and took a seat, still eyeing Quixotic with suspicion. Quixotic took a deep breath and started talking.

"Back at Guns 'N Roses, I was set up. Nachbar was an old friend of mine, but he betrayed me and sold us out to Celtic. I made a mistake in placing my trust and our fates in his hands, but please understand that I never intended to do any of you harm."

"And what, I'm just supposed to take your word for it? Because you say you aren't with them, I should just believe you?"

"No. You should believe me because I've been taking the fight to Celtic every single day since we parted."

Nitesco's eyes widened slightly upon hearing that, but he kept his composure. "Taking the fight to him how?"

"By managing my own network of scouts and spies, while inhibiting his. By covertly gathering information on troop movements and Celtic's grand strategy, as well as finding and eliminating many of his special operatives, and those operatives' operatives. You should see how this guy's organized, it's operatives all the way down—"

"Stay on topic."

"Right. And also by sharing that important information with you in the form of anonymous intelligence reports."

Nitesco put his poker face to use. In a completely neutral voice, he said, "Reports?"

"Yes, the reports. The reports that told you where Celtic would be at his most vulnerable. The reports that you used to capitalize on his weak points. The first of which I slid under the door one night while you guys were playing chess. The reports."

Nitesco blinked. "That was from you?"

"Yes."

The two sat in silence. Around them, the sounds of nature could be heard. Birds chirped frantically. A squirrel scurried between trees. Wind blew, and the grass rustled. A man groaned.

"Okay," Nitesco said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I believe you."

Quixotic raised an eyebrow. "Nitesco? What's the matter? Did something happen?"

Nitesco tried to regain his composure. "It's fine," he said. "I'm just a little… you know. This war's been getting to me, the people around me have been getting to me, and all of a sudden you're back. It's getting to be too much. I just feel so helpless." Nitesco jumped when Quixotic suddenly placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," Quixotic said.

Nitesco stared at Quixotic, expecting him to say more. When he didn't, Nitesco replied.

"Uh, hey?

Quixotic strained, trying to find the right words. "Listen," he began. "I haven't been around for a while, so I don't know what's going on. I can't really help you solve your problems. I can barely solve my own." He shook his head. "My whole life, I've never really felt in control of myself. My job and my commitments pulled me around from place to place, with or against my will. I am a spy and a scoundrel because I never could have been anything else."

Nitesco didn't make eye contact, but he continued to listen.

"You're different," Quixotic said. "As a person, you've always stood out to me because you seem to be exactly where you want to be. You've taken your life into your own hands and decided to do the things you want to do. So, don't worry about living up to anyone else's expectations. You choose your destiny. You decide who you will be, and what you will do with the world. That's one of the things I like most about you. Remember that."

Nitesco found himself struggling to hold back tears. He smiled at his friend. "Thanks. I appreciate you telling me that, I really do."

Quixotic took his hand off of Nitesco's shoulder and looked away uncomfortably. "Or, you know, do whatever, I guess. It's none of my business."

Nitesco laughed. "I missed you. I was angry, but I missed you anyway."

Quixotic blushed. "Well, yeah, I missed you too." He scratched his head. "Look, now's not really the time to be sappy, okay? We've got important stuff to do."

Nitesco nodded. "Do you want me to take you to meet the others? I'm sure they'll want to hear anything you have to tell us."

"Actually," Quixotic said, "That's why I came to you first." He chuckled.

"I need you to make sure Austin doesn't kill me on sight."

* * *

Gwydion and Austin sat at a table in one of the inn's suites in tense, uncomfortable silence.

They turned as they heard a knock on the door. Nitesco cracked it open and peeked his head in.

"Hey, guys. I, uh, brought someone to meet with us."

"Who is it?" Gwydion asked.

With a gulp, Nitesco slowly pushed the door open, revealing Quixotic standing next to him. Austin and Gwydion stared, wide-eyed, as Quixotic gave a nervous wave.

"Hello," he said. "How've you been?"

Austin stood and pointed furiously. "You sold us out, you son of a—!"

"Let him speak," Nitesco interrupted. "Please, let him speak."

Austin grunted, but said no more. He glared back and forth between Nitesco and Quixotic.

"Tell them what you told me," Nitesco said. "About what you've been up to."

Quixotic did. He described his actions over the prior months, spying on Celtic and aiding rebel causes, including the cause led by ANGQ. When he finished, Austin remained skeptical.

"What you've said is interesting, if it's true. But I don't think I believe you. All you have is words. How can we be sure you aren't lying?"

Quixotic simply nodded. "I thought you might not, which is why I left a little something in each of my letters. Do you have them with you?"

Austin squinted. "Yes, I do." He walked over to a box on an end table and pulled out a folder of documents. "This is where I keep my letters," he explained. After a bit of digging he pulled out a piece of paper.

"Which one is that?" Quixotic asked.

"It's the one we received during the chess game."

"Okay," Quixotic said, and thought for a moment. "For that one, I think you need to look at the first letter of the eighth word of each paragraph."

Austin traced the page with his finger and read the letters aloud. "Q…U…A…I…L." He looked up. "Holy shit."

"You believe me now?"

Austin burst out laughing. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I believe you. Gods, how did we miss that?"

"Well, it wasn't particularly obvious," said Gwydion. "But yes, I can't shake the feeling that if we had looked a little harder we might have found that."

Nitesco nodded at Quixotic. "Now that we all believe you, tell us what you need to tell us."

"Right," Quixotic said. He reached into his shirt, pulled out several documents, and placed them on the table. "You guys need to hear this."

"You see, I was hoping to catch you all here because it just so happens to be very close to this location." He pointed to a small line on a map that stretched from their current location to a crudely drawn castle in the heart of Celtic's territory.

"There's a mountain pass that leads from here into his territory. If you march your armies through there, you can eliminate Celtic and all his lieutenants. That's not all, however."

He pulled out another map, one which detailed the defenses of Celtic's fortress.

"Celtic wants you to attack from the front, but there are actually two other methods of entering his fortress." He pointed at one break in the walls off to one side.

"There's a secondary entrance there, but it's fairly well-hidden. In case an army gets close enough to storm the castle, some of the reserve garrison can come out of there and counterattack."

His finger moved to another, smaller break in the walls.

"That's the emergency escape route. It leads directly to the Council room, and that's not too far away from Celtic's main throne room." He leaned back and folded his arms over his chest, proud of himself.

"Wow," Nitesco remarked. "This could win us the war!"

"We lead our army through the pass, and take a small team to infiltrate the castle," Austin recapped. "Then we can kill Celtic while the battle is going on, leaving his forces leaderless."

"And of course," said Nitesco, "We have our small team right here! The four of us can sneak in, get to wherever Celtic will be hiding, and—"

"Wait," Quixotic said. "The four of us?"

"Well, of course," Nitesco said, brimming with excitement. "Me, you, Austin and Gwydion. Don't you want to join us? We can end this war together!"

Quixotic hesitated. "Of course, I want to," he said. He looked at Austin and Gwydion. "But only if you all will have me."

Gwydion shrugged. "I'm fine with it. I think you've addressed any misgivings we might have had." He turned to Austin. "What about you?"

Austin placed his hands on the table and furrowed his brow, deep in thought. After a minute, he looked at Quixotic.

"Jaeger. Frasian. You remember those names?"

Quixotic looked down. "Yes."

"Those are the names of good people who died because of you. People who can't be brought back. Regardless of your intent, you're responsible."

"I know."

"So, you'd better make damn sure you never forget them. Never forget the pain you've caused. You have a lot of work to do if you expect to make up for what you've done. Am I understood?"

Quixotic couldn't meet his eyes. "Yes," he said again.

"Alright, then." Austin relaxed. "You can join us." He chuckled. "And of course, it has to be the four of us, doesn't it? We've never been very good at delegating."

Nitesco grinned and placed a hand on Quixotic's shoulder. "It's good to have you back," he said.

Quixotic smiled in turn. "It's good to be back."

"We've got a bunk you can stay in here, if you like," said Gwydion. "And if you don't mind, we'd all probably like to spend some time with you this evening. It sounds like we've got a lot of catching up to do."

"Alright," Quixotic said. "Let me go get my stuff; I was staying at another inn in a part of town I figured wasn't likely to be destroyed in the fighting." He moved to exit. "I'll be back in a little while."

"We should probably head out for a while too," said Austin. "We need to search the city for assets and supplies."

"Alright, then," said Gwydion. "Let's all meet up back here in a couple of hours."

Nitesco suddenly raised a fist in the air. "Yeah! Go team ANGQ!" he shouted.

His teammates stared at him.

"That was the cheesiest thing I've ever heard," Austin said. However, he couldn't keep a smile from crossing his face, and Gwydion and Quixotic both chuckled.

At last, Team ANGQ was reunited.

* * *

Jokey lurked through the streets of the city, scanning faces as he walked by. He hoped his disguise would keep him from being recognized; he was suddenly deep in enemy territory, and he couldn't afford to be spotted. Having searched for hours, he'd seen no sign of his targets. Either he was having bad luck, or they had chosen to remain in the castle, surrounded by guards. With a sigh, Jokey leaned up against a wall next to a deserted street and began forming a plan to infiltrate the keep. Suddenly, a person walked onto the street that he had not expected to see.

Quixotic Quail.

He paid Jokey no mind and seemed not to notice him. Jokey suppressed a laugh. He couldn't have asked for a better opportunity. As Quixotic passed, he drew his blade from under his clothes.

Quixotic, with trained ears, heard the sound of a blade being drawn and turned just in time to see an assailant lunging at him. He quickly dodged out of the way and pulled out his own dagger, prepared to engage in combat. As he looked at his attacker, he suddenly recognized him through the disguise. He gritted his teeth.

" _You,_ " he hissed.

Jokey grinned like a maniac. "Hello there," he said.

Quixotic went on the offensive, taking several swings with his dagger. Jokey deftly dodged each strike, relying on technique and predicting Quixotic's movements. Jokey attempted several counterattacks, each of which was dodged by Quixotic in turn. The two fought back and forth, each struggling to land a hit.

"You're tougher than I remember. A pity Nachbar didn't play you for longer."

"I may have been played, but at least I'm not a flunky," Quixotic retorted.

With a desperate thrust, Quixotic stabbed at Jokey's neck. Fatigued, Jokey tried to move out of the way, but was unable to avoid being sliced. Shouting in anger, Jokey thrust his own dagger into Quixotic's arm, causing the latter to scream in pain. Jokey pulled out his weapon and stepped back, watching Quixotic while using one hand to examine his neck. The cut was deep, and Jokey realized he wouldn't be able to fight any more until it was treated. He kept a hand on the wound to prevent blood loss. Quixotic, meanwhile, stood screaming in pain, holding his arm.

"One out of four will have to do," Jokey growled. He turned and walked away. Quixotic staggered after him.

"Get back here… you little…" He fell to the ground and screamed again. He lay there for a minute before hearing a familiar voice.

"Quixotic!" Nitesco shouted. He sprinted to his comrade's side and knelt on the ground next to him, followed closely by Gwydion and Austin.

"What happened?" Nitesco shouted, frantically. "Are you okay? We heard you screaming. Talk to me!"

Quixotic breathed heavily. "Got stabbed. Hurts. Like hell. Agh!" He screamed once more, clutching his shoulder.

Austin bent down and examined the wound on Quixotic's arm. It was surrounded by a discolored mix of red, yellow, and sickly green pigments. He sighed.

"He's been poisoned."

Gwydion turned and yelled, "Medic! MEDIC!" He hurriedly glanced back at Quixotic. "Hang in there, friend, I'm going to get you help." He ran the way the three had come, calling desperately for help. Quixotic coughed and gasped for breath, clutching his chest.

"Hold me," he said. "Please hold me."

Nitesco obliged, sitting and lifting Quixotic's head and upper body into his arms. "Hang in there," he said. He couldn't keep fear from entering his voice. "We're going to get you help, okay? Just hold on, you're going to be fine."

Quixotic winced and clutched his chest, struggling to suppress another scream. "Don't think so," he said. He shivered. "Not this time."

"No, no, don't say that, that's not true," Nitesco said, panicking. "We're supposed to fight Celtic together, remember? We're going to end the war. We're going to save the Subreddit."

Quixotic gave a pained smile and looked up at Nitesco. "Is that right? What else are we going to do?"

Nitesco trembled. "And after that, we're going to hang out together and share war stories. And you're going to tell me more about yourself. We're going to get normal civilian jobs and we won't have to worry about people killing us anymore."

Quixotic nodded. "Keep talking," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Nitesco held Quixotic closer. "We can play games, and get drunk, and maybe go for a walk or see a play." He sniffled. "We're going to do all of that stuff, okay? So just hold on. Don't die, you can't die yet!"

"I'll try," Quixotic said. He turned his head slightly to look at Austin. "For what it's worth," he said, "I really am sorry about Jaeger and Frasian."

Austin nodded. "I know," he said softly. "Don't worry about it."

"Ah!" Quixotic shouted, clutching his chest once more. He closed his eyes. "It hurts. It really, really hurts." He grabbed Nitesco's arm and held it tightly.

"It's okay," Nitesco said. "I'm here. I'm here."

Quixotic's grip loosened. His breathing slowed. He opened his eyes slowly to look at Nitesco.

"Remember me," he whispered.

Quixotic's hand fell. His body went limp.

"Quixotic? Talk to me. Come on, stay with me. Quixotic!"

Austin placed two fingers on Quixotic's neck. He searched. He shook his head.

"He's gone."

Nitesco buried his face in Quixotic's chest and wept.


	23. Chapter 23

Jokey walked up the stairs to Celtic's palace, grim-faced and dour. He entered through the large entrance arch, ignoring the honor guard Celtic had stationed on either side. He wandered through the labyrinthine halls of the castle, two left turns, two right, another left, until he found himself in Celtic's throne room.

"My liege, I bring news from Nuts and Dolts."

Celtic drummed his fingers impatiently on the armrest of his throne. "Well? What news have you?"

He looked up at Celtic and glanced at the honor guard that stood regally and impassively around the room.

"If I may be so bold, my liege, my news is meant for you and the Council alone."

Celtic nodded and beckoned for his men to leave. The guardsmen nodded and left the room, leaving Jokey and Celtic alone.

"This news isn't good, is it?" Celtic sighed and crossed his legs.

Jokey sadly shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. The 942nd Cavaliers have been wiped out. All members have been killed or captured, and sadly, Greatness belongs to the former category."

Celtic leaned forward and folded his fingers into a steeple. He closed his eyes and, for a few seconds, seemed genuinely grieved over his friend's death. All of a sudden, he grabbed his axe and began hacking what was left of the two thrones on either side of him to shreds.

He screamed and cursed violently while Jokey stood and watched the spectacle uncomfortably. At last, Celtic finished his outburst and turned back to Jokey.

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?"

Jokey swallowed fearfully.

"Well, it seems that Nachbar has been in contact with Quixotic Quail for some time, helping him undermine our efforts in exchange for clemency when the war is over."

Celtic pursed his lips and dropped his axe on the ground. He seethed in unnerving silence, wringing his hands together before exhaling forcefully.

"Is Nachbar here now?"

"I don't believe so," Jokey said. "But I do believe that he returns from Goodwood today."

Celtic sighed. "That will have to do. Do you have any good news for me?"

Jokey took a breath. "Yes, my liege. I managed to kill Quixotic Quail before I was forced to flee." He beckoned to the unsightly gash he had on the side of his neck.

"Well, at least one of them is dead. You are dismissed." He waved Jokey away. The assassin bowed his head and breathed a sigh of relief as he exited the throne room.

Celtic rubbed his temples as he sat down in the center throne, ignoring the two destroyed ones that sat next to it in a pile of broken wood. Yukon took a seat in one of them.

"Well it's about goddamn time you killed one of them. It's been how many years since we first encountered them? Now look what they've done! Our vision, sullied by their foul hands. So much for an age without corruption."

"More like an age of tyranny," Inferno remarked as he sat down in the unoccupied throne. "You cannot suppress the people's desire for freedom. That was your first mistake; that was what doomed this whole endeavor from the beginning."

"Shut up, both of you." Celtic groaned as he cast dirty glances at both of the men. "You know, Inferno, if you hadn't been such a little bitch at Pollination, none of this would have happened."

"If you hadn't stabbed me in the back, I would have never had occasion to betray you."

"He's right, you know." Quixotic leaned on one of the pillars that supported the concave roof above them. "You are a backstabbing bastard, Celtic. I hope you realize that."

"So what?" Greatness called out across the room. "None of us are innocent; we're all sinners and murderers. Besides, we'll all be dead within the month anyways."

"You're already dead, fool," Celtic noted the obvious. Idiots. They didn't even know they were dead.

"Yes, Celtic," Yukon hissed. "Dead because of you. Dead because of your fruitless power grab. Dead because of your plans. Dead because you led us all down this path, and the only thing at the end is death!"

"For once, I agree with that homicidal maniac," Quixotic remarked. "You're a pathetic, greedy, treacherous despot, and everybody's lives are worse because of you!"

"Shut up!" Celtic yelled and stood up from his throne.

Inferno, too, stood up. "You've led this whole Subreddit down a dark path. You should have never invited me into this pathetic rebellion of yours. You should have never attacked ANGQ at Pollination. You never should have trusted that snake Nachbar. Had you done none of those things, we would all be alive today!"

"Nachbar has betrayed us," Greatness stated flatly. "Our forces have been decimated. Our lands are rebelling. Our plan has failed. Relent. Accept it. Just give in. There's no point in making this longer than it needs to be."

"Enough!" Celtic screamed. He opened his eyes and looked around; the throne room was empty.

He sat down and cradled his head in his hands.

* * *

Maker sat in her workshop, standing over a suit of armor that was supposed to replace Jokey's old and increasingly worn one. She bent over and examined the structure inside; how was she going to do this? The armor needed to make Jokey stronger at the tightening of a handle, but she just couldn't figure out how. Would it constrict? No, the structure would be too heavy. Would it cut? No, that would seriously wound, if not kill him. Chemicals, perhaps? Where would they be stored?

In frustration, she grabbed a sheaf of papers and angrily threw them in the air. As the papers floated gently to the floor, she heard somebody knocking on the door.

Maker sighed. She had not been expecting company. "Come in," she grumbled.

Jokey opened the door and walked in.

"Good afternoon, Maker." He noticed the pile of slightly crumpled papers on the ground and the half-finished suit of armor she was designing for him. Maker leaned over the table and sighed again.

"I take it the armor isn't coming along so well?" Jokey asked hesitantly. Maker shook her head.

"Unfortunately, no. I can't seem to find a way to make you stronger by using the suit. It either kills you too quickly or is too difficult to make, even for me." She rested her head on her fist. "I simply don't understand."

Jokey put a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, my friend. You did the best you could. And look what you've done for us so far! Poisons, grenades, even my mask. Don't doubt yourself. I have confidence you'll get it eventually."

Maker smiled and nodded, and they sat there for some time in silence. After a couple minutes, Vulpix appeared in the doorway and knocked on the edge of it.

"Vulpix. What is it?" Jokey asked.

"It's Celtic," his colleague responded. "He's summoned all of us to his throne room. He seems incensed about something."

"Well, whatever for?" Maker furrowed her brow and contemplated any reason she might have given Celtic to be angry.

The general shrugged. "He didn't say, only that it's very important."

Jokey and Maker sighed. After exchanging glances, they stood and followed Vulpix to the throne room.

* * *

Nachbar rode through the city of Night's Watch, a small smile on his face. Greatness was dead, and according to one of his spies, ANGQ had the documents necessary to bring the war to its endgame. He passed through the northern gate and turned down the road to Celtic's fortress.

After fifteen minutes, he came upon the guard post that allowed entrance to the fortress approach. The guard captain, recognizing Nachbar, beckoned for his soldiers to let the spymaster through. They stepped aside and Nachbar continued on his way.

At last, he came upon the central gate to Celtic's fortress and dismounted. He walked up the steps to the front doors, imagining how furious Celtic must be right now. Greatness was dead. Heroa was slipping from his grasp. At the very least, Celtic would be noticeably frustrated, and as always, oblivious to Nachbar's role in his downfall.

Nachbar turned down the winding halls of the castle, built specifically to hamper intruders and assassins. At last, he arrived in the throne room.

Maker leaned on one of the pillars, and Jokey stood next to his liege. Both of them glared at him. He swallowed and looked behind him. Vulpix walked over to the doors and closed them, looking calmly, though intently, at Nachbar as he stood in front of them, arms crossed.

Son of a bitch.

Masking his increasing panic, Nachbar turned to his liege. Despite the thrones next to him indicating he had an outburst of anger recently, he seemed rather calm. Disturbingly so. He looked up at Nachbar, a cold fury burning in his eyes.

"Peter Solomon Nachbar. You have committed treason. You have handed vital information over to our enemies, cooperated with one of their leaders, attempted to turn Inferno against me, and caused the deaths of both Yukon and Greatness. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

The spymaster feigned surprise. "My liege, where are these accusations coming from? Why would I betray you? What cause do I have to help our enemies? What could I possibly gain from that?"

"Save it, you scumbag!" Jokey hissed at him. "I followed your operative Quixotic from Eclipse to Nuts and Dolts. I know he's working for you. Or was, for that matter, since I killed him." A sick grin formed on his face.

"Silence!" Celtic bellowed at his assassin. Jokey stepped back and instantly quieted down.

"I know for a fact that you've betrayed us, so don't even try to deny it. What I want to know is why. Why would you turn your back on us? Why would you betray us?"

Nachbar looked around. They weren't faking it. They knew what he had done. There was no point in continuing the deception any longer.

"Because from the moment you stared this rebellion, it was doomed. I saw that. You were too staunch a legalist, too zealous, too reliant on your authority to survive for long. At first I tried to turn Inferno against you: a ruler that, even if he didn't want to admit it, was driven by ambition, by personal gain, not some childish fantasy of a utopia. He would need me. But then I realized that wouldn't work either. He, too, stuck to his principles. He joined ANGQ's pathetic crusade instead of taking power for himself. So, I went to plan B. I help ANGQ in exchange for immunity. Even if they are misguided, idealistic fools, they were going to win. I knew that with them, I had a better chance of coming out on top. I only wanted to survive, to escape the foolish deal I made with you."

Celtic stood there for a bit, absorbing his words. At long last, he laughed, a sort of chiding snort.

"How ironic, then. You've spent your whole life serving yourself. You've spent all this time working against me, just trying to escape, just trying to survive. But you failed. You wasted all of this effort trying to save yourself, and in the end, it's what got you killed."

Celtic struck Nachbar in the stomach with the end of his axe. He collapsed to the ground, coughing heavily.

"Any last words, Peter?"

His mind, almost of its own accord, returned to a conversation he had with Inferno so long ago.

" _Very admirable, Inferno. But also foolish."_

He remembered how Inferno looked at him, as if he could tell the future, as if he could see everything he had done and everything that he would do.

" _I would not be so quick to judge, Peter. You too, will die protecting what you love."_

"Well wouldn't you know it." He laughed sadly. "He was right after all."

Celtic raised his axe high, preparing to strike him down.

"Let justice be served."

With one swift, clean motion, he brought the axe down onto Nachbar's neck. His head came clean off, rolling across the stone floor before coming to a stop at Vulpix's feet. All four of them looked at their former spymaster's body as it dropped to the ground and twitched before growing still. Celtic breathed deeply, as if the air had cleared.

"That is all. You may return to your activities."

The three of them nodded and departed. Jokey and Vulpix walked out the main door while Maker departed down a side hall to return to her laboratory.

"An awfully grisly fate," Vulpix mused.

"He deserved it." Jokey voiced his opinion.

"I never said that he didn't deserve it," Vulpix clarified. "Just that it was awfully grisly."

Jokey let a small frown grow across his face.

"My dear friend Vulpix, you're not going soft on us now, are you?" He looked at Vulpix, who met his steely gaze with a glare of his own.

"You think I'm going soft? I'm not. I haven't lost sight of the goal. My allegiance to Celtic has not changed. My determination has not wavered. I promise, my friend, you need not worry about me."

Jokey shrugged. "Just making sure. You did spend a significant amount of time around Inferno, after all…"

Vulpix stopped and glared at Jokey angrily.

"Do not presume to know my loyalty, Jokey. I was the one who killed him, after all." He paused and sighed, somewhat melancholy now. "You can ask Celtic about it if it will assuage your fears."

"I have no doubt of it, Chaos." Jokey noticed how his colleague tensed at the sound of his first name.

"And what, if I may ask, is your opinion on team ANGQ?"

Vulpix scoffed and shook his head disdainfully.

"I hate them. Austin, Nitesco, Gwydion, Quixotic. They brought down the Jaunerrha Citadel. They have helped destroy everything that matters to me. Two of our friends are dead at their hands. My nation lies fractured and occupied. They are the reason for our plight. They must die." He sighed, his frustrated rantings coming to an end.

"Are you happy now? Must this examination of my loyalty continue?"

Jokey shook his head, a small smile gracing his expression.

"No. I can tell you are sincere. Thank you, Vulpix. I have heard all I needed to hear."

Jokey nodded and rounded a corner, probably heading back to his quarters. Vulpix sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Prick," he muttered aloud. With nothing to do and no pressing concerns to deal with, he decided to head down to the Council chambers.

Vulpix pushed open the door and walked in. As he pulled up his chair and took a seat, he took the opportunity to look around the room, something he hadn't done in quite some time.

The banners of Night's Watch hung from the pillars, in desperate need of a good dusting. One of the seats, which Vulpix assumed had belonged to Inferno, had numerous slashes in the velvet cushions. Celtic's seat, which sat a little higher than the rest, still had a cabinet directly behind it, presumably the only reason Celtic still visited the chamber. Next to him, Yukon's wolf skull mask sat on the seat, staring outward with two blank eyes. Across from it, Greatness' spare greatsword was rested on the back of the chair, pointing straight up. Vulpix sighed, remembering better times.

The sound of footsteps awoke him from his reverie. He turned to the open door to see who would join him. Maker walked in, but upon seeing Vulpix there, stopped mid-step.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she stammered. "Am I interrupting?"

The general shook his head. "No. I just came here to think. I can leave, if you'd prefer."

Maker placed her hand on the edge of the table. "No, you can stay. After all, misery loves company."

"I suppose that's true," Vulpix remarked. "Can I get you a drink? Celtic keeps the cabinet well-stocked, and I'm sure that he won't mind."

Maker took her seat next to the chair on which Yukon's skull sat. "Oh, please. A drink is exactly what I need right now. A brandy, if you will."

Vulpix walked over to the cabinet and opened it, inspecting its contents.

"Hmm," Vulpix said. "Do you prefer Camaieu or Abeille?"

Maker thought for a moment. "Abeille, if you will. It reminds me of home."

"Trick question." Vulpix laughed wearily as he came back with two glasses and a bottle of Camaieu. "Celtic already drank all of the Abeille, it seems."

"Damn," Maker muttered. "Very well; Camaieu will have to do."

Vulpix sat down as he began pouring out the expensive brandy. Once finished, he handed a glass to Maker, who sipped hers gently. Vulpix followed suit and began draining his drink, sitting with Maker in silence.

"I miss them," Maker said sadly.

Vulpix nodded, melancholy, and set down his near-empty glass.

"I know. I miss them too." He drained the last drops of liquor in his glass and began refilling it.

He laughed slightly. "You remember the time you and I cheated Greatness out of fifty ducats in tarot? He was fuming mad."

Maker nodded, a smile alighting her expression. "Remember the time we all had a drinking competition? And how surprised we all were when Jokey went down first? He still refuses to talk about that. Yukon and Celtic tormented him relentlessly about it."

They both laughed. "I can't remember who won that," Vulpix noted. "I must have gone down after Jokey."

"Probably," Maker mockingly stated. She finished her glass and passed it to Vulpix for refilling.

"I remember how Yukon and Jokey used to have debates in the Emberaldian library. They'd go on for hours, rambling about obscure philosophers." Vulpix smiled dolefully and handed a full glass of brandy back to Maker.

"Remember how you and Celtic would come down every now and then and watch me experiment? And how you two would jump like a pair of little children every time a chemical went *pop*? Now that was funny." Maker began laughing again.

"Oh, oh," Vulpix interjected. "What about the time Greatness came back to the castle raving drunk and lost to me in an arm-wrestling match? He always pretended it didn't happen. He was probably too drunk to remember."

"Greatness and Celtic used to have sparring matches, remember that? Remember when Yukon convinced us to start betting on it? And it turned out that he was paying Greatness to throw the matches to cheat us? Man, did they laugh for weeks about that." Maker at last finished reminiscing and resumed her work on the liquor glass.

"I miss those times." Vulpix sighed and took a sip.

"We all do," Maker said. "I can't help but wonder how this will all end. What will become of us? Will we be able to recover? Regain lost ground? Or will we share the fates of our two friends?"

The two of them turned to look at Greatness' blade. Both of their shoulders sank.

"I don't know," Vulpix said. "But we can't give up the fight. Otherwise, everything we've sacrificed will be for nothing."

"I suppose." The pair resumed sitting in abject silence, sipping on the last dregs of the Camaieu brandy.

While they sat there, the sound of rushed footsteps came down the hall. A female scout appeared in the doorway, wearing the colors of Arkos.

"Scout!" Vulpix walked over to her and sat her down in a vacant Council seat. "What is wrong?"

"ANGQ," the scout said, out of breath. "They march through the mountain pass."

"The mountain pass?" Maker asked, frightened. "How do they know about that?"

"Nachbar, most likely." The general turned back to his subordinate. "How long until they get here?"

"Three days, at the most," she stammered. "What do we do?"

The two Council members looked at each other urgently.

"Go back to your garrison, soldier. Inform your fellows. We'll tell Celtic." The scout nodded and departed.

The general walked off, intent on informing Celtic, but afraid of his reaction. The artificer with him followed, but stopped. She turned around and, taking a last glance at Yukon's mask and Greatness' broadsword, shut the doors of the Council chambers behind her.


	24. Chapter 24

Austin, Gwydion, Samurai and Nitesco marched through the lands of Night's Watch, vast armies amassed behind them. As they came over the top of a hill and looked out over the horizon, they saw their target. Celtic's fortress was located on the other side of a small plateau, his fortress partially built into the side of a large hill. A road led down the other side, presumably to the capital city.

"I can't believe we're really here," Nitesco mused. "After all these years, it seems almost sad to end it now."

"I, for one, won't be sad to see this war end." Austin turned to the others. "You guys know the plan?"

Samurai nodded. "I go with you to charge through the main gates. Nitesco takes the Villainians and the Crosshares troops and goes through the side entrance. Gwydion takes a strike team through the back entrance. And then we put Celtic's head on the pike and return home as heroes."

"That's right!" Nitesco exclaimed, excited. "I wonder what my statue will look like," he joked. The other three chuckled.

"Well, we have to get there first, Nitesco," Gwydion said. "Maybe Celtic's desperate enough to surrender. Shall I offer him mercy?"

"You may as well," Nitesco said. "But I wouldn't bet on him giving up now."

"I'd take some shieldbearers with you, just in case Celtic tries anything," Austin advised. Gwydion nodded, and they began marching up to the front gate.

Gwydion dismounted, and he beckoned three shieldbearers to his side. They formed up around him, walking in front and to the side, ready to catch any arrows that might fly their way.

As they approached the gate, they noticed a familiar figure standing atop the walls, just over the main portcullis. Jokey von Zockey.

"So good to see you again, little mouse." Jokey laughed condescendingly. Gwydion did not indulge him with a retort, instead staring at him grimly.

"Jokey," Gwydion spoke. "I am not here to trade barbs. I am here to-"

"To offer us clemency?" Jokey cut him off. "To offer surrender for the shame of imprisonment? We will not bend so easily. We will see this fight through to the bitter end!"

Gwydion sighed. "Very well. Let it never be said we did not offer you mercy." He began to walk away, but stopped.

"You never did tell me what that inscription on your sword meant." He turned around. "Care to enlighten me?"

Jokey squinted at the blacksmith. "Alle für Celtic und der Konzil. All for Celtic and the Council."

Gwydion nodded. "I should have guessed." He turned around, and the shieldbearers with him slowly backed up as he walked away covering him.

As he rejoined the lines, Austin raised his sword and pointed to the castle.

"Today, we redeem the Subreddit! Today we restore peace to these lands! Today, we avenge those who have fallen, and honor them! Today, we cleanse the world of Celtic once and for all! My friends, it is time we end this. Attack!"

A line of trebuchets, gifts from King Redwing of Ladybug, heaved stones on the castle walls. They exploded in a shower of brick, mortar, and blood as the archers struggled to regroup and fire back.

The soldiers waited, shields up, for the walls to come crumbling down so they could charge through and sate their bloodlust. Austin took the moment to exchange glances with Samurai.

"Are you ready to die, my friend?"

Samurai tightened his grip on his halberd. "Always."

The wall exploded in another shower of stones. Austin raised his sword in the air.

"Charge!"

And the battle began.

* * *

Nitesco had set up his cannon to breach the secondary entrance's gate. Quixotic was right, it was well-hidden. Behind the gate was a courtyard, connected to Celtic's main castle by a large pathway invisible from where their army was. They would have been surrounded and flanked without Quixotic's intelligence.

The artillerymen nodded at him; the cannon was ready. "Fire!" He screamed.

The cannon went off, the cannonball hurtling towards the gate. With a blast, the gate was blown off its hinges, leaving the tunnel to the flanking center exposed. With their target exposed and momentarily surprised, Nitesco seized the opportunity.

"Attack, men! Let's crush these dishonorable scum!"

They charged through the tunnel, bellowing war cries and swinging their blades madly. The enemy soldiers, by then, had recovered from their surprise and were beginning to coordinate a defense. As his soldiers engaged the vastly outnumbered enemy, Nitesco took the opportunity to slip past them and run down the pathway into Celtic's castle, sure that his men could eliminate the flankers.

He came upon a small set of oak doors, but that would be no obstacle to him. With one swift kick, he knocked them in and continued on his way.

Nitesco walked into the room beyond them. It was wide open, if poorly lit. At the other side of the room was a set of stairs leading deeper into the castle. As he approached them, he heard breathing from just around the corner. Raspy, strained breathing. He knew instantly who it was.

"Come out. I know you're there."

Jokey came out from behind the corner, slightly disappointed.

"Oh, well. Looks like an ambush isn't going to work. Nonetheless…"

Jokey pulled out a dagger and flung it at Nitesco. He narrowly dodged it, moving ever so slightly to the left and watching as it embedded itself in the wall behind him. The stone around it corroded ever so slightly. Poison.

Suddenly it all came to him. A deep, overwhelming hatred suddenly consumed Nitesco. He stared at Jokey with death in his eyes.

"You're the one. You killed him, didn't you? You killed Quixotic. You murdered my friend."

Jokey chuckled. "Well, aren't you a smart one? Yes, I did kill your friend. Are you sad? Are you angry? Well, let's settle it, here and now." He drew his blades and smirked a bit.

"To tell you the truth, I was hoping you'd survive. Now we get to see who's the better man, once and for all."

Nitesco gritted his teeth. "You're going to burn in hell."

"We'll see about that," Jokey remarked.

Nitesco bellowed a war cry, and they began their duel.

* * *

The escape passages were lightly manned, defended more by their, most likely purposefully, elaborate and confusing design. Already, Gwydion had been forced to split up with his strike team, and now he was alone.

Despite this, he found that the tunnels were surprisingly spacious and smoothly surfaced. They were dimly lit, but whoever designed them clearly intended to provide escapees with a comfortable environment during an evacuation. Night's Watch was certainly a wealthy state with no qualms about spending its wealth.

Gwydion pushed these thoughts aside. He needed to focus on the mission.

His trek through the tunnels came to a halt when he turned a corner and saw a figure roughly twenty meters ahead. He stopped, drew his sword, and entered a combat stance.

"Who's there?" Gwydion called out. "Show yourself!"

The figure stepped out of the shadows into a patch of light. Gwydion tensed up as he recognized the person before him. The tunnel echoed with haughty feminine laughter.

"Hello, Gwydion," Maker said mockingly. "Do you remember me?"

Gwydion said nothing, but nodded.

"Of course you do," she stated. "And I remember you. I still have the scar you gave me with your little cannon. Tell me, do you think you'll be able to defeat me with that toy?"

Gwydion sized up his opponent. He remembered her being shorter, but she was as tall he was, shoulder-length blonde hair covering up some unsightly burn marks on her collarbone and neck, most likely from her experiments. She was wearing her leather tunic, and she brandished her gauntlets, complete with blades protruding from either side of the wrists, menacingly. On her belt, she held numerous arrows for her wrist-launchers, knives for either throwing or melee, and grenades, probably filled with foul chemicals. After a moment, he simply said, "No."

Maker giggled for no apparent reason. "That's wise. I would have killed you before you could pull the trigger."

Gwydion figured that wasn't an exaggeration.

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe I will die here, Maker. But it would be knowing that you and your perfidious cause would die with me, and there would at last be peace in the Subreddit."

Maker laughed condescendingly. "Oh, yes. There will be peace at last. Peace, prosperity and plenty for all peoples and all creeds. But you don't understand, Gwydion. That is _our_ peace. The fruits of _our_ labors. We uprooted the corrupt, the weak, and the impure. We cleansed this Subreddit of those who were holding it back. _We_ molded it. _We_ shaped it. _We_ made it what it is today. You railed against us, the saviors, the martyrs. There will be peace because of us, not in spite of us. And although I may taste defeat, although I may die this day, I will die gladly, knowing I did my duty in the end."

Gwydion knew he couldn't last long going toe-to-toe with Maker. This fight would have to end quickly, one way or another.

"Prepare yourself!" Maker exclaimed. "Your death is imminent!"

She began toward him, wrist-blades poised to strike. Gwydion held steady and tried to read her movements. Her arms were out at her sides. She pulled an arm back. She was going for a thrust.

Gwydion threw his plan into action. He moved his sword into his left hand and lunged forward and downward. Maker's thrust connected with his weapon and knocked it out of his hand. Gwydion reached for Maker's belt, grabbed something and pulled a pin. He closed his eyes and held his breath.

"What?" Maker said, before the world turned green.

Gwydion could feel the air pressure changed around him. His exposed skin burned from contact with the lethal gas in the air. Blindly, he moved as quickly as he could away from where Maker had been standing. After several seconds of a combination of running and crawling, he felt the air return to normal and the burning sensation on his skin grew less intense. He dared to take a breath, and he exhaled a sigh of relief when it didn't harm him. He opened his eyes and turned around just in time to see a knife flying toward his face.

Instinctively, he raised his left arm to shield himself. The blade went through Gwydion's forearm, causing him to cry out in pain. He knelt on the ground, held his arm, and braced himself to be hit by another projectile. That projectile never came.

Gwydion heard coughing and retching coming from within the cloud of gas. Looking in, he could see Maker's shadowy figure crawling toward him, making shaky movements as she tried to escape from the gas. Before long, her face emerged, covered in blisters and blood. The rest of her body followed, any exposed skin being reddened at best and grotesquely torn at worst. Once she'd completely escaped the cloud, Maker collapsed on the ground and writhed in pain.

Seeing his opponent was in no condition to continue fighting, Gwydion momentarily turned his attention to his own wound. The knife had fully penetrated his arm, with the tip sticking out on the opposite side of the point of entry. Knowing he couldn't leave it there, Gwydion grabbed the handle and braced himself. Taking a deep breath, he pulled with all his might. The knife slid out, and the pain it left behind elicited a scream and several choice swear words from Gwydion. When he was again able to focus on things other than pain, Gwydion turned his attention back to Maker.

Her condition had not improved. The toxic gas was taking its toll on Maker's body and mind.

"Too much," she gasped. "Too much!"

Gwydion moved to her side. "Too much of what?"

"I didn't think… it would hurt this much," she choked out. Another fit of coughing ensued as her body tried fruitlessly to recover from its poisoning. When she was able to speak again, she looked hatefully at Gwydion.

"I'm sorry, Maker," he said, "but you brought this on yourself."

"You should thank us, scum." She wheezed painfully and choked up a glob of discolored blood.

"And why is that?"

"Because," she hissed. "Everything you have, we gave to you. Look at you now. You command armies. You hold court with nobles and kings. You wield power like few others have.

"But where would you be without us, hmm? Where would you be, had we never rebelled? You'd still be that blacksmith in Bumblebee, slaving away, day in and day out. Hiding from who you are. Too afraid to confront the past. You would have lived and died a coward."

Maker began wheezing, and her eyes started to glaze over. Her end was approaching. Gwydion leaned in ever so slightly, intent on hearing her last words.

"You owe us everything. So tomorrow, when you look out on the Subreddit, with your power, and your wealth and your new prestige, and you look back on who you were and how far you have come, remember, Gwydion. You have us to thank."

Maker's raspy, faint breathing subsided, and she rolled over onto her side. She was dead.

Gwydion sighed, turning away from Maker and the cloud of poison that had been her undoing. He had to leave sword behind, still deep in the cloud of poisonous gas. With Maker's knife in his good hand, he continued down the tunnels towards his destination, and towards one final battle.

* * *

Jokey was facing an opponent unlike any he'd fought before. A reckless, enraged opponent who screamed in between each breath he took. This opponent was not outstanding in skill, speed, or strength. Nor was he a particularly brilliant strategist. What set this opponent apart was his complete willingness to die for the sake of a kill.

Nitesco seemed to have no concern about his own wellbeing as he moved and attacked with a special kind of madness. The strokes of his sword came one after another, each attack leaving him open to a lethal response from Jokey. However, he moved quickly enough that Jokey couldn't exploit these openings without risking receiving a killing blow in turn. Jokey wasn't helped by the strain and fatigue caused by his various injuries and ailments. As the only combatant whose sense of self-preservation was still intact, he was forced to stay on the defensive.

Unfortunately, Jokey was not used to being on the defensive.

With each attack and pivot made by Nitesco, Jokey had to respond in turn with a dodge or parry. He waited and waited for an opportunity to counter his opponent and rob him of the advantage without running the risk of getting skewered. After a minute, he found it. After a lunge from his opponent, Jokey grabbed Nitesco's sword and ripped it from his grasp, leaving Nitesco without a weapon. With this, the outcome of the battle was decided.

With his own off hand, Nitesco instantly responded by throwing a punch over Jokey's right arm, barely missing being cut by the sword it held at a tilted angle. His fist directly connected with Jokey's temple. Jokey lost consciousness and fell to the floor.

* * *

Nitesco was hearing voices. He was hearing people that weren't there.

He heard Gwydion comment, "That was a heavy hit. He's been knocked out cold. Probably has a bit of brain damage after that one."

He heard Austin say, "No surprises here. Nitesco's gifted; this is normal for him. He exceeds expectations, as usual."

Voices spoke on top of voices. Nitesco stepped forward.

He heard Inferno say, "I pity him, but he had this coming. "

He heard Samurai say, "This is what we do. We fight, and we die."

Voices from the past drowned each other out. Nitesco picked up his sword.

Jaeger said, "A stunning display! You've made a fine soldier indeed."

Greatness said, "Send him to me. I'd like to talk with him again."

Voices grew louder, rendering each other unrecognizable.

A woman said, "Stop! Don't touch him again!"

A man said, "Come on, coward! Don't waste our time!"

A demon said, "Please don't break him. I could make further use of him."

Voices filled his head, filled his body, threatening to burst from inside of him. In the cacophony of roaring voices, he couldn't hear his own thoughts. He couldn't hear his own reasoning. He pressed the tip of his sword to Jokey's chest.

A voice said, "Wait!"

A voice said, "Please!"

A voice said, "Go!"

A voice said, "Kill!"

He raised his sword, preparing to stab. The voices got louder than should have been possible. One impossible voice spoke above all the others.

Quixotic said, "Nitesco."

He gasped.

Quixotic said, "You choose your destiny. You decide who you will be, and what you will do with the world. That's one of the things I like most about you. Remember that."

His hand shook. The sword shook with it.

Quixotic said, "Remember me."

He dropped the sword and fell to his knees. In an instant, the voices vanished. The room was quiet. His head was quiet. All that could be heard was the sound of Nitesco softly sobbing. Soon, he heard himself thinking:

 _I need to find Austin and Gwydion. I need to help them._

He picked up his sword and returned it to his sheathe. Before leaving, he looked at Jokey one more time. Temptation came to him again. This time, he did not let it consume him. He pulled out his dagger and bent down next to Jokey's face. He made a couple of careful incisions, then put his dagger away. Finally, he stood once more, and went to see his mission to its conclusion.

* * *

The battle raged fiercely in the courtyard. Samurai swung his halberd in a wide arc, beheading three Night's Watch soldiers who thought they could best him. As he kicked another knight away, he looked around.

They had underestimated the garrison Celtic had on hand. It took longer than they expected to claim even one part of the outer defenses, and despite this, the soldiers just kept coming.

Samurai pounced on a lone knight, bringing his halberd down into his chest with a sickening crunch. He looked up and saw a squad of soldiers barreling at him.

Swiftly, he rammed the back point of his halberd into one soldier's neck, pulling it out and decapitating the man. He twirled the halberd around, taking two of the momentarily stunned soldiers down. The last one, an officer of low rank, readied himself and brandished his mace.

He swung at Samurai, who struggled to block it. Not used to being on the defensive, and certainly not intent on staying that way, he took a few hasty steps back and swung his halberd upward. It didn't connect, but it put him back on the offensive. A couple more well-placed swings eliminated the threat.

"Austin!" He cried, hoping to get his commander's attention. They had been split up, and if they were to have any hope of coordinating a defense, they needed to find each other.

He charged through the mass of soldiers, finding that surprisingly few soldiers even looked his way. After sweeping aside a particularly inexperienced swordsman, he saw someone that looked familiar to him.

"Samurai!" Austin yelled. He ran over to him and swiftly dispatched a soldier that was creeping up behind his friend.

"Austin? Thank the goddesses!" He looked around; the outer defenses seemed to be cleared of enemy soldiers. His co-commander pulled him aside.

"We can't get into Celtic's fortress. The main gateway, in the inner courtyard, is too heavily defended to get to. The portcullis is closed."

Samurai stroked his chin, considering the situation.

"We can't afford to wait them out," Austin continued. "We need to get in there quickly and make sure Celtic doesn't escape."

Samurai nodded in assent. "I think I know what to do," he said. He pointed. "The portcullis is opened by a mechanism on the battlements directly above it. If someone gets there, they can get it open."

"Just one problem," Austin said, looking where Samurai had indicated. "To safely get to those battlements with this many defenders, we'd need a siege tower, which will take too long to construct. We couldn't make one in this space, anyway. All we have are ladders; if we try to get up with just those, we'll surely get picked off."

"Surely?" Samurai asked, "Or probably?"

Austin scowled. "It'd be a suicide mission. You might get a few men up there, but the cost would be too great. The assault would fail."

"But we could get the portcullis open? At least for a moment?"

Austin stared ahead in silence for several seconds. "Maybe," he said reluctantly. "Fine. If you think this is the best course of action, we can try it, but it's too risky for my liking."

" _We_ aren't going to try anything," Samurai corrected. " _I_ will lead a squad up the ladder. _You_ will cover us from down here, wait for the opening, and use it when you have the chance. This is how you get to Celtic."

Austin clenched his fists. "I don't like this."

"It has to be this way."

Austin sighed. "Alright. Take care of yourself, Samurai, that's an order. And if I don't see you again… thanks. For everything."

Samurai gave a smile and a thumbs-up, then ran off toward one of the ladders currently being held just out of range of Celtic's archers. When he reached it, he gathered the attention of soldiers standing nearby. When he had a small crowd around him, he began explaining the situation.

"Listen up, men! We have a new objective. We're going to scale this wall, get that gate open, and get our forces inside the keep. It's dangerous, I know, but someone has to do it. That's why I'm going to lead the way. Who's with me?"

With newfound energy and motivation, the gathered soldiers cheered with approval. Samurai nodded in acknowledgement of his soldiers, then began giving orders.

"Alright, then. Four men on the ladder, shield wall in front. Advance at a steady pace and hold firm! You there, give me that shield and stay back; I'll be needing it."

As Samurai's force approached the wall, they came under fire from archers stationed on the wall. Most arrows missed or landed ineffectively, but several found their mark, knocking down some of Samurai's men. Enduring the barrage, they eventually reached the wall. Samurai barked further orders.

"You four, hold the ladder steady. Everyone else, after me. Charge!"

The soldiers gave fierce war cries and followed Samurai as he began his charge up the ladder, shield raised. Arrows whizzed past as they made their way up.

Austin, meanwhile, had troops of his own positioned.

"Archers, ready!" He yelled, and the line of archers near him nocked arrows in their bows, aiming at the section of wall currently being assaulted.

"Fire!" Arrows flew up in an arc, and several hit Night's Watch forces near the chokepoint. Within seconds, Austin's group came under fire from the defenders.

"Cover! Get to cover!" He ordered, hastily taking cover behind a stone monument as his surrounding soldiers followed suit, seeking cover where they could find it or otherwise beating a hasty retreat from a rain of arrows. Austin kept his head down and waited with his ears ready for the signal.

Samurai reached the top of the ladder and pushed his way onto the ramparts, fending off Night's Watch soldiers as he did so. His own soldiers followed him, and before long a fight was taking place on top of the walls. Seeing this from below, soldiers of the attacking force erupted into cheers and rallied. Though no one else tried to advance a ladder to the walls, soldiers en masse shot arrows and slung projectiles up at their foes whose line was now broken.

Samurai weaved his way between defenders, using sword and shield to knock down or quickly slay those who stood between him and the opening mechanism. The men following him engaged in melee anyone he did not kill, keeping his back covered. Eventually, he reached his objective: a wheel that needed to be turned to open the portcullis.

"Cover me!" He ordered several nearby soldiers. Night's Watch troops encircled Samurai and his makeshift squadron as he began to open the gate.

Below, Austin heard the sound of creaking metal and took at as his cue to move. He quickly emerged from behind cover and ran toward the opening portcullis at a sprint.

Samurai turned the wheel as hard and fast as he could as fighting took place around him. One by one, the members of his squad were slain by the overwhelming number of defenders. He continued to hold the wheel, intent on keeping the gate open as long as possible.

Moving as fast as he could, Austin reached the partially open portcullis, ducked under it, and made his way toward the main gateway.

Samurai felt a piercing pain his back. He looked down and saw a red tip protruding from his chest. He felt himself weaken as the sword was pulled out and blood began to pour from the wound it had made.

"Well," he said to himself, "this is it. Time to go down."

He released the wheel and turned to see the man that had stabbed him. It was a Night's Watch officer, someone he'd met before and who wore a smug expression as he looked a wounded Samurai in the eyes.

"It's over for you, traitor."

Samurai, in lieu of a response, grabbed the officer by the shoulders. With all of his remaining strength, he threw himself over a parapet.

In one final act of defiance, he brought the officer down with him.

* * *

Some distance away, a young Night's Watch soldier alerted his commanding officer.

"Sir, one of the attackers has gotten past the wall. He's making his way inside the keep, what should we do?"

The officer thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Leave him be. We have people inside; they'll take care of him. We have a fight to worry about here."

With that, they returned their attention to the defense of the inner walls.

* * *

Austin breathed a sigh of relief. He was inside.

As he made his way down the winding corridors of the castle, he heard footsteps relatively close to him. He drew his blade, cautiously opened a set of doors, and came out in a harshly-lit foyer, illuminated only by red-stained windows. In the center of the room, Vulpix stood, staring at him.

"Ah, Vulpix," Austin said. "Long time no see. How have you been, general?"

Vulpix said nothing and readied his sword, staring fiercely at the intruder. Austin ignored the hostility.

"You remember me, right? We met on the battlefield some time ago. I'll be honest, I've thought about you many times since then. Of all of Celtic's people, you stand out to me. Do you know why?"

Vulpix scowled. "I don't care what you have to say. If all you're going to do is talk, then you're wasting my time."

Austin chuckled mirthlessly. "You definitely sound like one of Celtic's people. You act like you don't care about the pain you cause every day. The price you make others pay for your success. That acting ability is why you can give me that evil look. It's why Celtic doesn't suspect that you're disloyal."

Vulpix's eyes widened. "Disloyal? I've served Celtic faithfully every day. On what grounds do you suggest that I'm disloyal?" His nostrils flared. "I'm going to wipe that smirk off your face, you codger!" Although he made the threat, he remained standing in place.

Austin nodded solemnly. "You have strived to serve him faithfully. That's why you continue to lead his armies. That's why you killed Inferno."

Vulpix's blood ran cold. How did he—

"You may not have killed him with your own hands," Austin continued, "but you were complicit in causing his death. And from what Inferno told me about your relationship, that probably weighs pretty heavily on you, doesn't it?"

Vulpix was silent.

"Those emotions are what make you disloyal. They are what tempt you to turn away from your master."

Vulpix clenched his hands tightly around the hilt of his sword. "You don't know me," he said. "Stop pretending that you do. Shut up and just fight me!" Having run of patience, Vulpix charged, and Austin readied his defense in response.

The ensuing combat was fast and one-sided. Vulpix held constantly on the offensive, aggressively pursuing his opponent and seeking openings in which to strike, making frequent attempts to land a hit. Austin held a firm defensive style, parrying Vulpix's strikes and avoiding his advances. He patiently awaited an opportunity of his own, and eventually found it. After one of his opponent's missed attacks, Austin delivered a swift elbow to Vulpix's face. It connected directly with the nose, causing Vulpix to cry out and stumble backward in pain. Though he left himself wide open to another strike, Austin did not seize the opportunity.

Realizing that he'd been momentarily defenseless, Vulpix quickly resumed a combat stance, ignoring the pain in his face. He glared at Austin and charged once more, fueled by emotion and showing no regard for proper fighting form. Austin was able to dodge a slash and quickly knock Vulpix down with a counterattack. Seeing Vulpix struggle to get up, Austin spoke again.

"I know more about you than you might think. You're a young leader of an army, working every day to put yourself and the things you care about in the best position possible. To do this, you've become more willing over time to loosen your standards of "acceptable" behavior. You've gotten used to killing. You've learned to ignore that little voice in your head that tells you when you're doing something wrong. Of course I know what that's like; I mean, how could I not? I've lived that."

Vulpix got back on his feet and halfheartedly raised his sword once more. Austin established and maintained eye contact.

"I can see it in your eyes, though. That voice hasn't gone away, has it? It's still there, whispering. It's telling you that there's another path. The fact that you can still hear it means that you still have a chance. Please," Austin said, showing sincere sympathy, "take control of your destiny. Stop serving that monster and choose another path." He reached out a hand toward the general. "I'm making this request as a friend, not an enemy."

Vulpix felt his resolve weaken and his arms drop several degrees. "We're not friends," he muttered.

"But we could be, if you wanted."

Vulpix whispered, "I killed Inferno."

"What was that?"

Vulpix's anger returned to him. "I killed Inferno!" he shouted. "Not in the abstract sense. I literally murdered him with my own hands. I dealt the killing blow. I personally struck him down." With shaking hands, he brought his weapon up once more. "So, do you still think I can change? After I killed someone I supposedly cared about? After I murdered someone I love for the pride of a man I don't? Do you still think you can turn me away from my cause after that? Well?" He clenched his teeth and prepared to attack again.

Austin stood silently for a moment. He looked down and seriously considered the question, deep in thought. He looked back up. "Somehow, yes. Yes, I really do."

Vulpix felt a burning sensation in his eyes. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why didn't you just kill me when you had the chance?"

"A while back, you saved someone I really cared about," Austin said softly. "And you seem like the kind of person who might go on to save more. You've got that kind of heart. So, I'm trying to repay you, and give you the chance to do some good in the world. All you have to do," he said, pointing at Vulpix's sword, "is drop your weapon and walk out of here. Do that, and one of us doesn't have to die. We can both walk away from here."

Vulpix looked down at his weapon. It had been a gift from Celtic; a sword that would be a symbol of his power and position, Celtic had told him. He found that he couldn't loosen his grip on it.

"I know what I have to do," he said. "But I don't know if I'm strong enough to do it." He looked at Austin pleadingly, through blurry vision. "Will you help me?"

Austin hesitated, then nodded softly. "Alright. I will." He sheathed his weapon and walked slowly toward Vulpix, arms held in front of him.

Vulpix kept his sword where it was, watching Austin as he approached. Austin was ten meters away. Five. One. Austin placed his hands on the hilt of Vulpix's sword. He pulled. Vulpix held on. Austin tugged harder. Vulpix kept his hands clenched tightly. With one more pull, Austin finally managed to wrench the weapon from the general's grasp. Vulpix held his empty hands in front of his face and looked at them, as though surprised by their appearance.

"There," Austin said, breathing heavily. "You've been disarmed. Now your only option is retreat." He smiled. "Get going. You've got your whole life ahead of you."

Tears flowed freely down Vulpix's face. He nodded and walked toward an exit. Suddenly, Austin called after him.

"Before you go, would you mind telling me where Celtic is? That would save me a lot of time."

Vulpix looked back and shook his head. "He's too strong," he warned. "He'll kill you if you face him alone. You should leave too."

Austin grinned confidently. "We'll see about that. Please, can you give me directions?"

Vulpix resigned. With a sigh, he pointed. "Down that hallway. Go deeper into the keep until you see the really big, scary-looking doors. Celtic should still be behind those. Good luck."

He paused. "If you get the chance," he added, "try to take him alive," He doubted his request would be heeded, but he felt the need to make it nonetheless. With a final nod, Vulpix departed.

Austin stood for a moment and rested. After a brief respite, he dropped Vulpix's sword and advanced, beginning his hunt.

He followed Vulpix's instructions, going deeper into the keep until he found the tall, ominous-looking doors. Two banners stood on each side, the sigil of Night's Watch emblazoned on both of them. He prepared himself and pushed them open.

The throne room doors opened slowly with a drawn-out creak. Celtic stood from his throne and picked up the battle-axe at his side, waiting to see who would emerge from behind them. When the doors stopped moving, he saw Austin standing on their threshold.

Celtic smiled bitterly. Austin returned a solemn smile of his own. They spoke in unison:

"I've been waiting for this."


	25. Chapter 25

Austin drew his sword and took a few steps forward, coming to a stop twenty meters away from Celtic. Celtic, in turn, walked down the steps from his throne to reach even footing with his visitor. Celtic spoke first.

"You made it after all, Austin. Tell me, did anyone try to stop you, or is my security even more incompetent than I thought?"

"I did run into General Vulpix on the way here," Austin admitted. "You won't be seeing any more of him." He suppressed a laugh, careful not to give away the true meaning behind his words.

"Is that so?" Celtic said, forlornly. "That's a shame. He was a great leader and a good friend. A skilled combatant, as well. If you managed to defeat him, you must be more formidable than I thought."

He laughed sadly. "And here I was hoping my army might have been able to push you back, or better, that you'd be killed in the fighting. But my luck has never been that good, has it?"

Austin shrugged loosely. "I don't know," he replied. "I could call what you did to Guns 'N Roses a lucky shot. And you've been riding the wave from that chance victory all the way here, to a demise which should have come much sooner."

Celtic smirked. "Speaking of Guns 'N Roses' tragic downfall, how is Quixotic Quail doing these days? Is he well?"

Austin's facial expression went from relaxed and neutral to tense and furious. He said through gritted teeth, "I'm sure he'll be more than well when I send you to him on your knees, crying for your mother."

Celtic cackled boisterously. "There's the killer I've heard so much about! You seem ready for a fight, so let's not waste any more time. En garde!"

He charged and swung his axe at frightening speed, giving Austin barely enough time to dodge. The veteran kept his distance and stayed on his toes as Celtic made a few more attempts to lodge his axe in his opponent's skull. Realizing that staying far away would do him no good, Austin moved in for an attack of his own. Celtic parried several strikes from Austin before pushing him back with a kick. Austin broke a sweat.

He examined his opponent while evading further attacks, looking for a weakness that could be exploited. His eyes settled on Celtic's axe, which had a loop near the blunt end. Austin decided to take a risk, and on Celtic's next swing, hooked his sword through the axe, holding on tightly. With a combination of a grunt and a shout, Austin pulled his sword back and upward with great effort, tearing the axe from Celtic's grip and sending it flying across the room behind him. Austin laughed triumphantly, while Celtic scowled.

"Hmph," Celtic muttered. "Two can play at that game."

When Austin swung at Celtic, Celtic responded by swinging his arm and connecting his fist with Austin's right hand, sending his weapon flying out of it and away from the two fighters.

Austin stepped back and stared at his hand in disbelief. "Did you just punch a sword out of my hand?"

Celtic cracked his knuckles. "That's not the only thing I'm going to punch out of you," he threatened.

Boxing ensued.

Celtic advanced, throwing several jabs and straights. Each one was blocked or dodged. Austin retorted with a jab to the body and a right hook to the chin, the latter of which drew blood. Celtic took several steps back and touched his chin, bewildered.

"What the hell?" he asked nobody in particular.

"Something wrong?"

"You're sixty-something years old. How can you hit so hard?"

"Uh…" Austin shrugged. "Push-ups?"

Celtic blinked. "Push-ups?"

"Yeah. One hundred a day. Never skip."

Celtic sighed and rubbed his temple. "I'm going to kill you now."

"Right."

Celtic unleashed a flurry of blows, faster than before. Austin had to react quickly as his opponents strikes forced him to step back and evade. A combination of reflexes and speed allowed him to evade most of the attacks, though Celtic did manage to land a couple of body shots.

"You may have reach," Austin boasted. "But I have flexibil—" He was interrupted by an incoming strike, which he dodged.

"Flexi—" Another dodge.

"Flex—" Dodge.

"I stretch," he managed to get out in between punches. Soon Austin had backed up until he was a few meters from a wall.

"No more games," Celtic said. He grabbed Austin's arm and maneuvered to put his own back facing the wall, preparing to execute an ancient Night's Watch combat technique: the Irish Whip.

Celtic placed his free hand behind Austin's back and, with force, threw him toward the wall. Austin stumbled and struggled to reduce his momentum before slamming into the wall. Dazed, Austin pushed himself off and turned around just in time to see Celtic's fist rocketing toward his face. Instinctively, Austin ducked, and felt wind as Celtic's punch flew just over his head. He ran toward the throne to put distance between himself and his opponent. Feeling himself tiring, Austin decided to stall for time.

"There's no way you can win, Celtic. Even if you manage to defeat me, my teammates are on their way. When they get here, they'll make short work of you."

Celtic scoffed. "They'll never make it. They have to get past my remaining councilors, who are two of the strongest fighters in the world. You're on your own now, and when my people get here," he grinned maliciously, "you're _screwed._ "

Austin smiled confidently. "Don't count my friends out just yet. They've become forces of their own, some of the fiercest and cleverest individuals I've had the pleasure of meeting. They can take on your sorry henchmen any day. Once they come through those doors, your experiment with power will fail. You've already lost; you just don't know it. You're a failure!" He put extra vitriol in his voice with the last remark.

Celtic's face twisted in anger. "A failure? You dare to call me a failure? I am the greatest leader this Subreddit has ever known! I am the single strongest fighter in the world! I strike fear into the hearts of my enemies and inspire courage in those who serve me." He raised his voice. "I am power!" he boasted. "I am justice! I am control!"

"Even so," Austin said, raising his fists once more, "I think I can take you."

This time, Austin went on the offensive. Moving around Celtic in a circular path, he stepped in to take scattered strikes, using feints and false starts to mislead his opponent and throw off his defense. After landing several hits, Austin found an opening and took it. With Celtic's arms down, Austin moved to punch his face, extended two fingers, and poked Celtic in the eyes. Celtic screamed in pain and anger and stumbled backwards, placing his hands over his eyes. Austin quickly followed up with two blows to the body and one to the head, the latter of which knocked Celtic to the ground. As Celtic struggled to regain his footing, Austin took another opportunity to rest and recover energy. He grinned mockingly at his opponent.

"You can't see me!" Austin taunted, his voice taking on a childish tone.

Celtic became furious. "That's it," he growled. "You die _now._ "

He charged at Austin and grabbed him by the shoulders. Austin struggled to escape Celtic's grasp, but his enemy's grip was too tight. Celtic raised one arm and threw several punches at his restrained opponent's forehead, each one landing unopposed. Austin felt blood trickle down his face.

Though he knew he was in trouble, Austin refused to show it. "Is that all you've got? I've been hit harder by starving peasants."

Celtic glared. "Oh, I'll give you something hard."

"Hey, at least buy me—" Austin was cut off by another punch.

Celtic lifted Austin off of the ground, turned him over and held him in the air. Austin resisted with several ineffective hits, but was unable to put any force behind them from his position. Celtic prepared to use another ancient Night's Watch combat technique: the Piledriver.

He suddenly paused as he heard the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway. Both combatants turned their heads toward the doorway in anticipation, holding their awkward positions.

Nitesco and Gwydion appeared in the doorway. Seeing this, Austin's face became a wide upside-down grin, while Celtic's became one of uncontrolled rage and contempt.

"Austin!" Nitesco shouted upon seeing his friend in a dangerous position.

Austin laughed triumphantly. "Yes! You made it!"

Celtic screaming furiously was the last thing he heard before his head crashed into the stone floor.

* * *

"No!" Nitesco drew his sword and stared intensely at Celtic. "You bastard. I'm going to make you pay for hurting my friend!"

"Hurting him?" Celtic laughed in an extremely evil way. "He's well past hurt at this point, Nitesco. He's stone cold. And you two will soon be joining him." Celtic stretched each of his arms across his chest in turn, preparing to engage the newcomers in melee. He gave off an aura of cockiness and slight insanity as he shook his limbs in anticipation.

Nitesco started to charge but was stopped by Gwydion placing a hand on his shoulder.

"We need to be careful," he warned. He looked down at his left arm, which had a piece of cloth hastily wrapped around his wound. "I've got one good arm and a knife, so I'll be of limited help. We only barely have a numbers advantage, and he just beat Austin in a fight. This is going to be dangerous."

Nitesco sighed. "Alright. Caution it is. We'll flank him; I go right, you go left."

Gwydion took his knife in hand and nodded. "Sounds good."

"You know I can hear you, right?" Celtic quipped. "If this is the full extent of Team ANGQ's tactical genius, I must say I'm unimpressed."

Nitesco and Gwydion opted not to respond as they approached Celtic from different sides. Before they could attack, Celtic spoke.

"Humor me for a moment," he said. "Did you two run into anyone on the way here?"

"I encountered Maker," Gwydion informed him. "And Nitesco fought Jokey. Both of them are dead."

Celtic shook his head. "I don't believe it. That's not possible. There's no way you fools killed my best people."

"Believe it," Nitesco said. "We beat them."

"Then I'm really all that's left," Celtic sighed. "Very well. Let's get to it, then." He looked at Nitesco on his left. Then he turned to see Gwydion on his right. Then he broke into a run straight forward.

"Huh?" Nitesco said as he looked to see where Celtic was going. Then he saw what Celtic was running toward: his battle axe, lying on the ground.

"Dammit!" Gwydion exclaimed as he and Nitesco ran after Celtic. Celtic reached the axe first, grabbed it, and turned around, now armed and dangerous. Celtic waved the axe around cockily.

"Let's dance!" With that challenge, the next phase of combat began.

Nitesco and Gwydion again attempted to encircle Celtic, who rotated as needed to keep track of each's position. The pair exchanged glances, then charged simultaneously.

Celtic whirled around, deflecting Gwydion's attack with his axe while kicking Gwydion away. After striking the blacksmith in the head with his elbow, he advanced on Nitesco. With untempered aggression, Celtic howled and swung at him. Nitesco, panicking, rolled backwards just in time; the swing barely missed his head. Celtic paused for a second and shook his head before continuing his assault.

He performed another overhand swing and knocked Nitesco down. Seeing that Nitesco would need a second to stand again, Celtic quickly turned around to focus on Gwydion.

Gwydion was mid-swing. He raised his axe to defend himself, but instead of connecting with the blade, Gwydion's knife made contact with the handle, putting a dent in the wood. Swiftly, Gwydion pulled back and prepared for another attack. Celtic growled in apparent frustration and annoyance.

Gwydion went in for a stab, but Celtic was too fast. He darted to the side and, with his axe handle, struck Gwydion in the stomach before punching him across the face and sending him to the ground.

"Gwydion!" Nitesco cried out. He readied his sword and charged at Celtic. The tyrant caught Nitesco's wrist as he brought his sword down. With one swift motion, Celtic drove the blade of his axe into Nitesco's shin with a one-handed swing, causing Nitesco to cry out in excruciating pain. Thinking fast, Nitesco wrenched his hand free and brought down his sword onto the axe, cutting off the head from the handle. Then, he collapsed.

Though his weapon had been broken, Celtic chuckled sadistically. "Don't go anywhere." He tossed aside his now-broken piece of wood and turned around to face Gwydion, who had recovered from his earlier beating.

Nitesco knelt on the ground, his wound preventing him from standing. With haste, he grabbed the axe head still embedded in his leg and removed it, which only made the pain worse. He tossed the bloodstained piece of metal aside and watched helplessly from the floor as the fight continued.

Celtic approached Gwydion, who was struggling to put up a defense. With his knife, Gwydion tried to land a hit to no avail. Celtic dodged each attack, then grabbed Gwydion's right arm. He quickly applied pressure with his fingers and tightened his grip, causing Gwydion to cry out and drop the blade. With his free hand, Celtic transitioned into grabbing Gwydion by the neck, and lifted him into the air while choking him.

"What will you do now, blacksmith?" Celtic taunted. "You have no weapon and no footing. It seems that you're out of options!"

Gwydion responded with choking noises. He clawed at Celtic's hand, panicking and desperately trying to escape from his grip. As seconds passed his face lost its color and his struggles became weaker. At the last moment he moved his hand down toward his waist, as if to grab something. However, he lost consciousness and his arm went limp before he could get hold of anything. Celtic grunted and abruptly dropped Gwydion to the ground.

"Far too easy." He turned to Nitesco. "Now, what shall we do with you?"

Nitesco grabbed his sword and prepared to fend off Celtic from a position on the ground. Celtic, having none of it, approached, dodged one thrust from Nitesco, then reached down and yanked the sword out of his hand. He stepped back and examined the weapon as he spoke.

"And with that," Celtic said, "the fight is as good as over. Unbelievable. _This_ is the mighty Team ANGQ? These are the people who have caused me so much trouble, and who have killed my lieutenants? I don't believe it. How could I have beaten all three of you, yet you defeated all of my subordinates?" He shook his head. "It could only have been luck. A series of flukes led you all here, where you lie at my feet, awaiting death."

"It's not over yet," Nitesco hissed. He tried to stand, but he was forced to return to the ground; the pain in his leg was simply too great.

"You're right," Celtic said, returning his attention to his injured opponent. "It isn't. I still have to make you pay for what you've done." He pointed at Nitesco's leg. "Does that hurt?"

"Go to hell," Nitesco tersely replied.

"Hmph." Celtic raised the sword and plunged it down into Nitesco's wound.

* * *

As he was awoken by the sound of Nitesco screaming, Austin felt a terrible pain in his head. He looked up, dazed, and tried to collect information about his surroundings.

He saw Celtic standing over Nitesco, stabbing him in the leg. Very close to Celtic he saw Nitesco on the ground, being stabbed. He looked around the floor close to him for any weapons he might use, but found none. Searching more around the room, he saw Gwydion on the ground, groggily trying to get up after apparently having been knocked unconscious. A broken axe lay near Nitesco, and a sword rested on the floor across the room. He would have to get past Celtic to reach either of them.

With an understanding of his surroundings, Austin struggled to come up with a plan. It was hard to think over Nitesco's continuous cries of pain, but he persisted. Celtic. Sword. Axe. Nitesco. Gwydion.

Gwydion. A plan flashed through Austin's mind in an instant.

There was a saying in Guns 'N Roses: Take a rose with its thorns, or take no rose at all.

"Guess I'll take a rose," Austin muttered to himself. He was unheard by Celtic, who was caught up in getting revenge.

"I think Yukon would appreciate this," he said, looking down at Nitesco with the expression of a maniac. "Don't you? It's the least I can do, after you killed him." He twisted the sword, eliciting more screaming from his victim. "At the very least, it satisfies me. I think of them, Maker, Greatness, Jokey, Vulpix, and I just want to… you know…" He finished his statement by digging the sword even deeper into Nitesco's leg.

Austin stood up and slowly walked toward Celtic from behind, the sound of his footsteps being masked by Nitesco's pained noises and Celtic's taunting and ranting. He looked at Gwydion as he approached, hoping to make eye contact with him. After a second, Gwydion did look over, and his eyes widened. Austin put a finger to his lips. Gwydion replied with a curt nod and looked back at Celtic. Austin continued his approach.

"That's enough, Celtic!" Gwydion shouted. "There's no point to this. Stop it at once!"

Celtic looked up from his tormenting to stare at Gwydion with a crazed expression. "Oh, but there is a point, Gwydion. I _want_ to do this. So, I will. That's all the reason I need." He jammed the sword into Nitesco's wound, then released it and pulled back his hand, preparing to drive it through his victim's leg with extreme force.

Austin saw an opportunity and seized it. He quickly closed the distance between himself and Celtic, stood directly behind him, looped his arms under Celtic's armpits, and clasped his hands together behind Celtic's neck. He had secured and restrained an unarmed Celtic using an ancient Guns 'N Roses technique: the standing Full Nelson. He wasted no time in giving an order:

"Take the shot, Gwydion! Take the shot!"

Celtic took a second to process everything that was happening. After making several realizations at the same time, he suddenly became fearful and desperate. "No. No, No!" He struggled against Austin's hold. "Let go of me!"

Nitesco turned his head, exhausted. His mind was under too much stress to fully understand what was happening. "Austin…?"

Gwydion's hand moved to his hip and grabbed the hand cannon. His hand raised the cannon to aim directly at Celtic's chest. His finger moved to the trigger. He hesitated. Celtic was directly in front of him. Austin was right behind Celtic.

"I can't hold him much longer," Austin shouted. "You have to take the shot! NOW!"

"Stop!" Celtic roared. "You can't!"

"Austin, what…?"

Gwydion found his resolve. With pained effort, he brought the hand of his injured arm up to steady his aim. He inhaled. He exhaled. He pulled the trigger.

A deafening _bang_ filled the room. Echoing off the walls, it covered up several other noises. It covered the sound of Nitesco gasping in shock. It covered the _thump_ of a round penetrating Celtic's body. It also covered the simultaneous, softer _thump_ of the same round entering Austin's body and lodging inside of it.

Austin released his grip on Celtic and fell backwards. Celtic, at the same time, began to fall forward.

Celtic felt a flurry of emotions as he fell to the ground Anger. Regret. Fear. Despair. To his own surprise, the emotion that stuck as he hit the ground was pride. His vision blurred and dimmed as he rested on the floor.

"I fought… to the very end… for my rule…" he choked out. With a final breath, Celtic stopped moving. The battle was over.

Gwydion glanced down at the hand cannon. The last shot had taken its toll on the weapon; several cracks now appeared on its frame and some small chunks had fallen off. The gun would no longer function. Gwydion tossed it aside without a second thought and ran to his friend's side.

"Austin!" he panted as he bent down next to his comrade. "Are you—"

Austin raised a hand and cut him off. "First," he said weakly, "Make sure he's dead."

Gwydion nodded in understanding. He walked over to Nitesco and grabbed the hilt of the sword still embedded in his leg. "Sorry about this," he said.

"Just rip it out," Nitesco replied. As he braced himself, Gwydion pulled out the sword in one clean motion, getting a pained hiss from Nitesco. Gwydion then walked a few steps to Celtic's body, swung down the sword onto Celtic's neck, and unceremoniously separated his head from the rest of his body.

"Done," he said, simply. He dropped the sword and returned to Austin's side. Nitesco slowly crawled over to join them.

"Are you okay?" Gwydion asked quickly. "Can you get up? Tell me it's not that bad; tell me you're going to be fine."

Austin grimaced. "Maybe," he said. "Let me just try this." He started to lift his back off of the ground and immediately fell back down with a pained gasp. "Nope," he breathed, "Not getting up. I think it's really bad; I'm not getting out of this one."

Gwydion's eyes watered. "I'm sorry," he said. "I should have thought of something else. This is my fault, I could have—"

"Stop," Austin interrupted. He smiled gently. "Listen: you did everything right. Exactly right. You saved yourself and Nitesco. That's what I wanted, so don't be ashamed. I'm thankful that you were able to go through with it; you saved two people who are very dear to me. And hey, if there has to be blame distributed, I should share some as well. We are co-commanders after all, aren't we?" He winked.

Nitesco placed a hand on one of Austin's. "I don't know if my life was worth this," he said sadly.

Austin shook his head. "No. Your life is worth so much more. So, make good use of it, okay?"

Nitesco nodded. "I will. I promise." He sighed. "It's really over, isn't it? It's hard to believe. After all this time, the war's finally over."

"The air does feel different, doesn't it?" Austin remarked. "Peace. It's a light feeling. Kind of a numbing feeling."

"Actually," Gwydion corrected, "that may be trauma."

Austin broke into laughter; the kind of genuine laughter that compels anyone who hears it to join in. Gwydion and Nitesco didn't laugh themselves, but they did share a smile. After a few seconds, Austin's laughter winded down. "Oh, I shouldn't be laughing," he said. "That's not really funny. Oh, that hurts, too, laughing hurts. Ow." He sighed.

"I'm kind of at a loss," Gwydion said. "Now that the war's over, what are we supposed to do?"

"Do normal things, I suppose. Gwydion, you can become a normal craftsman. And Nitesco," Austin said, smiling wryly, "you can get into politics."

Nitesco shook his head. "No way. War is one thing, but that's far too dirty for my liking." The group shared another laugh. This time, everyone joined in.

"You should have something, too," Gwydion said wistfully. "We can get you a cottage, or something. Get you a hobby. Not sword-fighting, just a normal old man hobby. Gardening, maybe?"

"Yeah," Nitesco agreed. "You look like the kind of man who has a garden."

Austin smiled appreciatively. "I actually did have a hobby, you know. I was a writer of sorts. Ah, that reminds me, something I wrote a long time ago. How did it go…?" He shut his eyes and thought. His breathing slowed and his muscles relaxed. Quietly, he recited:

"A minute before midnight, and

I'm lying wide awake.

And here for midnight's angels is

my consciousness to take.

I know the coming dark is not

the terror that it seems,

for deep within that darkness is

a sea of pleasant dreams."

Austin sighed. "A pleasant dream," he whispered. "That's all a man could hope for." With that, he went still.

Nitesco placed a hand on Austin's neck, then in front of Austin's mouth. He shook his head. "Nothing. That's it, then. He's really gone." He stared. "It doesn't feel real. Like, my heart can't process what my eyes are seeing."

"I know what you mean," Gwydion said. "It's a lot to take in." He rose to his feet. "There'll be time to process it later. Right now, we need to get out of here. Can you stand?"

"I can try. It'll probably hurt like hell, but I can walk for a while if you support me." Nitesco looked down. "We can't leave him here."

"Well," Gwydion said. "Between us we've got three good arms and three good legs. That's one arm and leg per body." He smirked. "I think we can make that work."

"We'll have to try, at least."

With help from Gwydion, Nitesco stood and took a leaning position on Gwydion's left shoulder, keeping weight off of his injured leg. Together, with some difficulty, they lifted Austin's body off of the ground and hoisted it over Gwydion's right shoulder. Gwydion strained under the combined weight of his teammates.

"You sure you can do this?" Nitesco asked.

Gwydion nodded confidently. "We've carried each other through so much. We can carry this, too."

With that, they began their walk. They left the keep carrying the heavy weight of loss, moving toward a light future full of hope.


	26. Chapter 26

Vulpix walked calmly back through the escape tunnels, a cold fear coursing through his veins. After Austin spared him, he had wasted no time making his escape from the castle. He got through the maze of escape tunnels without much trouble, save for a few stray enemy soldiers, and had camped out on a hill far away from the fighting. When the battle ceased, he crept back into the castle to fulfill his curiosity.

The escape tunnels remained as confusing as they had ever been. As he wound another corner, he was greeted by a most harrowing sight.

Maker was dead on the ground, blisters and sores blemishing her skin. Her expression, however, was peaceful, her face disturbingly blank as she looked up at the ceiling.

Vulpix stifled a gasp and walked over to her side. Kneeling, he brought his hand over her eyelids, closing them as a final sign of his respect.

"Ah, Maker," he said sadly. "My dearest friend. I hoped that perhaps you would survive, but now I see I have deceived myself. Be at peace, Octavia, and enjoy whatever peace you find."

He remained at her side for some time, remembering old times. His dearest friend, gone. Probably to the same man that had spared him, or if not, then one of that man's friends.

With a heavy heart and a tear-stained face, Vulpix stood up and gave a final bow to Maker's body. He continued walking through the tunnels, intent on discovering the fate of his other two allies.

* * *

Jokey woke up and noticed two pains. First, he noticed a pounding headache. To prevent the headache from getting any worse, he decided to remain lying down. Second, he noticed a burning pain on his right cheek. He raised his hand to touch it. It was a fairly deep cut and would probably leave a scar. He traced the cut and noticed it had a particular shape. A capital letter.

The letter Q.

He tried to sit up, but his pain was too great. He groaned in agony and let himself fall back down onto the ground.

"Come on," he muttered to himself. "You can do this. You've overcome worse wounds. Stand!" With one monumental effort, he peeled himself off the bloodstained floor, grabbed his tonfas and stood.

"Come on, Jokey," he muttered to himself as he shambled towards the door. "For Celtic. You have to find out what happened to him. You have to! It is your duty!"

As Jokey walked up the stairs, the throbbing pain in his head became less severe, and his focus gradually returned. He was soon limping through the castle halls with one purpose: to get to the throne room.

Hearing footsteps, he quickly placed a hand on his tonfa and readied himself. He dove out from behind the corner and pointed his blade at the intruder.

Vulpix yelped and stepped backwards, only for both of them to realize that the other posed no threat. Vulpix breathed a sigh of relief, and Jokey collapsed on the ground in a fit of coughing.

"Thank the goddesses it's only you," Jokey sputtered in between coughs.

"I agree. You damn near gave me a heart attack." Vulpix smiled dourly. "I'm glad to see you're alive, Jokey."

"And you too, my friend." Jokey looked around the hallway. "The place seems intact. Were there no looters?"

Vulpix shook his head. "Not that I know of. My guess is that ANGQ told their soldiers not to. They're noble that way."

"And naïve," Jokey grunted. He coughed a little. "What about Celtic and Maker? Are they alright?"

Vulpix sighed, and a tear formed in his eye. "Maker is dead. I found her body. I don't know what happened to Celtic."

"Oh, dear Maker." Jokey looked down at the ground sadly. "But Celtic… he could still be alive."

Vulpix frowned and shook his head. "Jokey. Do you really think that they'd let him live?"

"I have to have hope." His voice cracked. "I have to hope, Vulpix, that everything we've done, everything we've sacrificed, wasn't in vain." He wiped away a tear and began running as fast as his legs would carry him down the hall to the throne room. Vulpix sighed sadly and picked up the pace.

Jokey barreled through the doors to the throne room. On the ground, he saw a discarded hand cannon, the device that trickster Gwydion created. The blade of Celtic's axe lied next to a pillar near the door, and puddles of coagulated blood laid around the room. Then, Jokey saw him.

Celtic lied on the ground in front of his throne, his head not far away. Jokey gasped and rushed over to his master's side, while Vulpix walked in and solemnly stood near the doorway.

"No. No. No!" Jokey screamed. "Those bastards! They killed him! They defiled him!" He gasped, barely holding back tears.

"All our years of work and sacrifice, for naught. All our efforts, all our plans, all our work, wasted. Our friends, dead, and in the end, it amounts to nothing."

Vulpix placed a hand on his grieving friend's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Jokey. But what's done is done." They stayed that way for a while, and Jokey finally sighed and stood up.

"We failed." Jokey looked down in disgrace. "I failed."

"It doesn't matter now," Vulpix said. "Come on. We must make our way out of here."

Jokey reluctantly nodded and stood up. The pair walked through the walls of the castle, eventually coming out into the courtyard. With a little help from Vulpix, Jokey walked up a staircase and onto the battlements. From there, they had a prime view of Team ANGQ's camp, and of the last rays of the setting sun.

"Vile scum," Jokey coughed. He leaned on a merlon and wheezed a bit. "They are pathetic, ignorant, barbaric fools. We offered them a path to salvation, an alternative to the corruption of the old ways, and they rejected it. And there they stand, reveling in their victory, condemning themselves to the stagnation of the old system. We cannot allow this."

"Jokey, please." Vulpix placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "We fought. We fought hard. We gave everything we had. Our nations. Our power. Our friends. Our loves." He swallowed. "But we must accept that we lost. There is no point in continuing this war."

"No," Jokey growled. He turned to face Vulpix. "We cannot give up. The fight isn't over just yet. There are still sympathizers. There are still believers in the cause. If we find them, if we can get them to join us, then we can take our revenge and recognize the vision that our friends were martyred for. Yukon, Greatness, Maker, Celtic. Do their deaths mean nothing to you?"

Jokey turned back to the camp below, hate and disgust blazing in his eyes. "We must continue the fight. We must."

Vulpix looked down sadly, feeling a realization that he ignored for so long finally washing over him. He turned around and picked up a broken sword of the dead body of a Ladybug soldier.

"Jokey. Celtic was doomed to fail. This system, through which we would create order, is flawed. He ruled on fear. He ruled on total obedience. It only takes one free thinker, one brave man, to tear the whole thing down. We would be at war for eternity. The cause is flawed. The cause…" He trailed off, the last shreds of his worn-down idealism burning away.

"The cause will never bring peace. The cause is wrong."

Jokey sighed and looked down at the ground.

"Then I'm sorry, Vulpix." He turned to his friend. "But you are a trai-"

A sharp pain in his abdomen cut him off. His hand fell away from his sword and clutched Vulpix's shoulders. With tears in his eyes, Vulpix slowly lowered him to the ground, cradling him. Jokey was too broken, too damaged from injuries received over the years to recover from this.

"Vulpix…" He gasped, looking hatefully at his old comrade. "Backstabbing bastard…"

His breathing grew shallow, and the hatred in his eyes faded away. Tears formed in their place.

"But…I feel…" He failed to finish his sentence and grew still.

Vulpix didn't need to hear the end of his sentence to know what he had felt. In Jokey's eyes, he saw a peace he never thought either one of them would find. With a sigh, he closed his former friend's eyes and folded his arms over his chest.

"I'm sorry, Jokey. May you find the peace we sought on earth with our friends in the world beyond."

He pulled the sword out from Jokey's stomach and tossed it aside. With a final bow, he began walking away.

* * *

It took about fifteen minutes to reach the ANGQ camp. Haggard and dirt-stained as he was, the soldiers, drunk and cheering, failed to notice him for who he was.

Eventually, he found a large tent, a sigil of Crosshares on the side. A commander's tent.

He pushed aside the tent flaps to see Gwydion and Nitesco sitting sullenly in the tent. Gwydion turned to see who had shown up uninvited. Upon identifying Vulpix, Gwydion gasped, grabbed his sword and stood.

"You! You are awfully bold showing up here!" Gwydion raised his sword, but Nitesco grabbed his wrist.

"Hold. He's unarmed. He clearly doesn't mean us any harm." He turned to Vulpix.

"General Vulpix. What brings you here?" Despite his passivity, Nitesco remained on edge. Vulpix raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"I just came by to say thank you to your friend Austin. Is he here?"

Gwydion looked down, closing his eyes. Nitesco shook his head.

"No. He's gone. He died in the battle against Celtic, but he took the fucker with him."

Vulpix nodded. "Oh. My sincerest condolences."

"What would you have to say to him?" Gwydion asked. He looked at Vulpix, curious and concerned.

"He spared me. He let me go, even though he had no reason to. I wanted to thank him." He looked forlornly at the ground.

"Does Samurai still live?" Vulpix asked.

Nitesco, again, shook his head. "He, too, perished in the battle. We're all that's left."

"I can sympathize," Vulpix forlornly remarked. "I don't hold it against you. I found the bodies of Celtic and Maker. Jokey somehow survived, but I…" He trailed off, tears in his eyes. "He is no longer with us."

Nitesco and Gwydion exchanged looks, Nitesco looking somewhat guilty.

"I know that you may hate me," Vulpix said. "And I know that I deserve it. Whatever punishment you see fit, I will accept."

"No," Gwydion said. "We will not sully our friend's last act of mercy. Even though I may hate you, Austin saw something in you worth saving. I won't let that go to waste."

"Agreed," Nitesco added. "You will be provided with a horse, a bag of gold and some food. I'll have one of my few sober subordinates deliver these to you." The two of them left the tent, leaving Vulpix alone with his thoughts.

After a few minutes, they came back, beckoning for Vulpix to follow them. They walked slowly through the camp and into the road leading down to the capital city. Vulpix mounted the horse and exhaled.

"It's exhilarating," he noted. "A fresh start."

"Don't waste it," Gwydion said. "Go. Make your own path."

Nitesco said nothing, and instead only smiled at him.

Vulpix nodded. "I will, don't you worry." Before he set out, he paused.

"Inferno, Samurai, Austin, Quixotic. Build a memorial. Remember them." He smiled, a little sadly. "I know I will."

"Godspeed, Vulpix," the two said in unison. The general merely nodded back, and whipped his horse. Before long, he disappeared into the night. Nitesco and Gwydion waved him goodbye.

"Man," Gwydion said. "I can't believe it's over. We've been fighting for so long…"

"I know what you mean." Nitesco scratched his nose and looked up at the dark, starry sky.

"We should build a memorial," Gwydion said. "It's a good suggestion. Maybe some statues in Guns N' Roses or Crosshares."

"Don't worry, Gwydion," Nitesco said. "We will always remember them." He began limping back to camp, beckoning for Gwydion to follow.

From above, the stars looked down on a new Subreddit. And somehow, the two of them knew their friends were proud.


End file.
